


Wake of the Goblin

by Polarlys



Series: Together in the Face of Danger, Now and Forever [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Morgana (Merlin), Episode: s03e03 Goblin's Gold, Gen, Good Morgana (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Magic Revealed, Morgana Knows about Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polarlys/pseuds/Polarlys
Summary: During the events of Goblin's Gold in Season 3, Arthur starts to wonder just how far off the accusations of Merlin being a sorcerer may be. Is there more to his friend than he's always assumed?
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Together in the Face of Danger, Now and Forever [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041816
Comments: 48
Kudos: 246





	1. Arrest and Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Morgana knows about Merlin’s magic, and Merlin has helped her with some basic spells but can’t do much about her visions. They’re friends, but they’ve had some major disagreements in Season 2 about the best way to get magic legalized – Merlin believes they should let it come about naturally when Arthur takes the throne, while Morgana doesn’t understand why they should sit idly while Uther continues his reign of terror. At one point, Merlin stopped talking to or acknowledging Morgana for a week after she declared that Gaius can’t be trusted because of how he gaslighted her with her visions and how he stood by Uther’s side during the Purge. She continued that stretch for another week when she found out that Merlin had originally stayed silent on her having magic on Gaius’s orders.
> 
> It comes to a head in Fires of Idirsholas (2x12) when Camelot is asleep, except that Merlin explains to Morgana about the enchantment and she willingly takes hemlock in front of Morgause to get her to stop the attack. Merlin gives Morgana the antidote, but as soon as he does, Morgause knocks him out and takes Morgana away with her. The events in The Last Dragonlord (2x13) follow canon.
> 
> Morgana returns in Season 3 as in canon. In the time between, Morgause has given Morgana lessons on how to harness the Seer’s power and get her nightmares under control. Unbeknownst to Morgana, Morgause has enchanted the bracelet she gave to Morgana to play upon her hatred of Uther and fear of what the people of Camelot would think if they found out about her magic. The enchantment also feeds her resentment towards Merlin for convincing her to take the hemlock in order to protect Camelot from the Knights of Medhir’s attack on Uther. Spurred on by that, Morgana agrees to take part in the attack on Camelot to make Uther pay for what he’s done. The Tears of Uther Pendragon (3x01-02) follow the episode pretty much, except that when Merlin and Morgana fight in the crypts, he senses something in her bracelet and pulls it off. Morgana still tries to fight him and protect the Rowan staff, but he tells her about the bracelet’s enchantment and how Morgause allied with Cenred to take over Camelot. Though she’s still disoriented and wary of Merlin, she decides to trust him and destroys the staff before passing out.
> 
> Though Morgana still cares for Morgause, she pulls back from their communication and starts the process of healing. She and Merlin still aren’t talking much, as she tries to sort out what parts of her resentment towards him was from the bracelet, but she doesn’t hate him either and by the start of Goblin’s Gold (3x03), she’s starting to think about trying to renew their friendship.

“Arthur, I have to talk to you.”

Normally, Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to roll his eyes at Merlin’s lack of decorum and the urgency in his voice. But now, flanked by two guards, his stomach curdled with anticipation for what he had to do and with the memory of Gaius’s words.

He couldn’t meet his friend’s pleading eyes. Not now, when he was trying to make sense of everything. They came to a stop in front of Merlin.

Coward he may be, but he couldn’t watch his closest friend’s face as he gave the order.

“Arrest him.”

Merlin’s incredulous laughter. “What?”

The rustling of chain mail as the guards gripped his arms. Even with his back turned, Arthur could see Merlin’s face falling, his disarming grin replaced by worry and shock and betrayal.

“Arthur, what are you doing?”

He turned around to meet his friend’s (the traitor’s?) eyes one last time, trying to see the deceit Gaius had spoken of. All he saw was fear. O _f him_ , his mind supplied helpfully.

Turning again, he led the way back to the throne room.

_I wish I knew, Merlin._

_I wish I knew the truth._

* * *

“Is it true?” his father asked. “You were responsible for the… afflictions that I and other members of the court have suffered?”

“What?” Merlin exclaimed, glancing at Gaius. “No.”

 _He hesitated,_ Arthur thought. _Goddammit, he actually hesitated_. Merlin had always been an abysmal liar. How could Merlin do this? _Why_ would he do this?

“Gaius?” his father intoned as the physician turned to pick up a thick tome.

“I found this in your room,” the older man began. “It’s a book of spells and enchantments.”

Was that terror in Merlin’s eyes? Betrayal at his mentor? Could it really be true? Merlin was a sorcerer? And Gaius had turned him in.

“He’s lying,” Merlin said (desperately?) “…that’s not Gaius.”

The absurdity of the statement hit Arthur like a kick from a horse, so typical of his oddly endearing servant’s strange antics. This was _Merlin_. He could never be a sorcerer. (But why would Gaius lie? He loved Merlin like a son.) “What are you talking about?”

 _Come on Merlin. Please, for_ once _, for the love all that is sacred, speak some sense._

“He’s been possessed by a gob…lin.”

How on earth did Merlin think up these ludicrous explanations?

“The boy is reduced to making the most desperate and ridiculous accusations.” Gaius explained to the stunned silence of the court.

Uther blinked. “You seriously expect me to believe that Gaius is a goblin?”

“It's, it's controlling him,” Merlin faltered. “Gaius is still in there...somewhere.”

Arthur had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t intervene. He had to know the truth. But this was _Merlin_. This was his ridiculous and naïve friend. (Wasn’t he?)

He had to say _something_. “Do you have any proof of these accusations?” _Come on Merlin, please._

Merlin swallowed, looking pained. “No!”

The court tittered.

Arthur shut his eyes. So it was true. Merlin had learned magic. And for what? For playing stupid pranks on the court? What could be worth that?

The rest of the trial was a blur.

“I fear that magic has corrupted you,” Gaius had said. “It pains me more than I can tell you.”

“I really doubt that,” Merlin retorted, insolent as always, even to the very end. (But when had he ever spoken to Gaius like that?)

“My lord, I have been harboring a sorcerer. For that I offer the most sincere apology.”

Arthur heard Uther clap a hand to Gaius’s shoulder. “You were not to know, Gaius. He's fooled us all.” ( _Fooled us all. Played me for a fool. Lied to me._ )

“It's not me that's fooling you!”

So insistent. But it couldn’t be true, could it?

“—found guilty of using magic and enchantments,” his father was saying. “In accordance with our laws, you will pay with your life. Take him away!”

Arthur was too numb to do anything but incline his head and escort out the guards and the boy who used to be (still is) his friend.

* * *

The walk to the dungeons with Merlin passed in a haze. Merlin probably was talking, _begging_ for Arthur to listen to him, but Arthur could only hear the roar of blood in his ears and the dizzying whirlwind of own his thoughts. _Merlin. Sorcerer? Servant. Idiot? Friend. Traitor?_

 _Friend_.

“Arthur, you have to believe me!” Pleading. Merlin was pleading. “You’ve known Gaius, what, all your life? Do you honestly think he’d betray me like that?”

 _I don’t know what to think anymore, Merlin._ He followed Merlin into the cell. “What were you doing with that book of sorcery?”

“It’s not mine, I’ve never seen it before,” Merlin said quietly, meeting Arthur’s gaze. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

 _No, but you’ve played me for a fool._ “Oh, I know.” _Gaius wouldn’t lie to me either._

“Then release me.”

“I can’t. My father has passed sentence.” _Do you honestly think it’s that simple? Don’t you see there are guards standing right outside this door, listening to our every word? What do you expect me to do?_

Merlin had the gall to look betrayed. “So… You’re just going to leave me here?”

“I should, with the amount of trouble you cause me.” _You try dealing with a shock like this_.

But magic or not, Merlin was his friend. He’d stood by Arthur’s side through so much. He’d joined him on a suicidal mission to face off against a _dragon_ ( _with no armor,_ his mind recalled). Merlin was as loyal and brave as any of Arthur’s knights, maybe even more so. And despite it all, magic or not, Arthur still cared, with an intensity that sometimes frightened him and that he tried to bury deep and forget. He swallowed.

“I’ll talk to him. I can’t promise anything.”

* * *

Arthur sank into his chair after he returned from dinner, the room (irritatingly) silent save for the sounds of a faceless servant tending to his fire and preparing his room for the night. The canopy of his bed had been repaired from the intruder incident the night before. Had that been Merlin? Why would he be stealing from Arthur? He was paid well enough and often sent money back to his mother in Ealdor in the form of food and goods.

Come to think of it, what had been the real reason for his ridiculous “spring cleaning” frenzy? Could he really have been chasing a goblin that had gotten loose? What even _was_ a goblin? According to Gwen, he had extended his “cleaning” to Morgana’s room as well.

Morgana. She had been oddly pale and unusually quiet at dinner, given how vocal and obstinate she usually was when someone was sentenced to death for magic. Then, again, she’d been rather quiet since she’d returned to Camelot after her capture. It was understandable.

A light knock sounded and the door opened. _Speak of the devil._ Morgana stood there, face drawn, worrying at her hands. The servant bowed and showed himself out.

“Morgana,” Arthur greeted, noticing how her eyes darted around the room and how she rubbed her right wrist nervously.

“Arthur.” She walked over to him. “Arthur, you can’t do this,” she blurted out, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s your _friend_. Are you really just going to let Uther execute him? Merlin may not like titles much, but he’d never do something like that to Gwen. Deep down, you must know that.”

Arthur sank down onto the edge of his bed, massaging his eyebrows. He could feel a headache coming on. “I do know, Morgana. Or at least I always thought I did.”

“So why didn’t you say something at dinner?”

He looked up at her, incredulous. “Seriously? How would that have helped? Father would just assume he’d enchanted me. He’d probably just move up the execution.”

Morgana froze like she hadn’t realized that. “Oh.”

Arthur caught her eye. “And don’t you go off on some half-brained escape attempt with him. I don’t want a repeat of what happened with the Druid boy.”

Morgana’s hand went to her throat, like she was steeling herself. “Fine,” she ground out. “But Arthur, you have to do something. You _know_ Merlin isn’t behind this.”

Arthur paused, trying to figure out what made the sentence so odd. “You say I should know he’s not behind this, but that maybe he is a sorcerer? Is that what you mean?”

“What? No, of course not,” she replied with a laugh. “Why in the world would you think that, Arthur?”

“Morgana…”

“This is _Merlin_ , we’re talking about.”

“Yes, and Gaius turned him in. _Gaius_ , Morgana. He’s cared for all of us for as long as I can remember and has been nothing but loyal. And he’s always cared for Merlin like a son. Why would he do this if it wasn’t true?”

Morgana snorted. “Oh, of course. Because whatever Gaius says must be true.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She froze. “Nothing.”

“Morgana, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No!”

Arthur frowned. “I don’t know how you could possibly have anything against Gaius. He always tried to help you with your nightmares—”

“Arthur,” Morgana interrupted hoarsely. “Please. Leave this alone.”

He exhaled sharply, throwing his hands into the air and flopping backward on the bed. “Fine. Fine! Don’t tell me. But I’ve known Gaius all my life. I have to be able to trust him. He’s given me no reason not to. But Merlin…”

Morgana walked over to the head of Arthur’s bed, grabbed his pillow, and hit him across the face with it.

“Hey!” He sat up, rubbing his nose and glaring at her. “What was that for?”

“Arthur Pendragon, Merlin has saved your life more than you know. He’s pulled you out of the path of a flying knife, he’s put up with you being an arrogant _pig_ , he’s mucked out your stables for you, gone to the stocks for you, _lied_ for you. That boy has drunk bloody _poison_ for you and nearly died—”

“And survived because of me—”

“ _Don’t interrupt me_. He’s apparently faced off with a bloody dragon with you with no armor whatsoever. You’ve sacked him and rehired him multiple times for absolutely idiotic reasons – _oh no you don’t, shut up and listen_ – and he still cares for you more than anyone ever has before. You’re a better person because of him and I’ll be damned if you’re just going to throw him away because one person – Gaius or not – has accused him of sorcery.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped open.

Morgana glared at him, daring him to contradict her.

“You’re right,” Arthur sighed, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “As ridiculous as it may sound, let’s say Merlin is telling the truth. Maybe Gaius truly is possessed by a goblin, whatever that is.” A sudden thought occurred to him and his eyes widened. “But Morgana, this isn’t the first time he’s been accused of magic. The Witchfinder and he confessed to it himself back when Gwen was arrested—”

He didn’t even see it coming. One moment he’s trying to recall memories and the next moment his back is against his bedpost and his cheek is stinging.

“Get your head on straight,” Morgana hissed, eyes blazing and face flushed. “We all know the Witchfinder was a fraud, and you yourself convinced Uther not to arrest Merlin when he burst into the council chambers during that magical plague. And even if he did have magic, so what?”

“So what? So what if he has – mmph!”

Morgana clapped her hand over his mouth, she leaned closer and continued more gently, “Yes, ‘so what.’ What happened Arthur? You used to wonder if not all with magic could be evil. You spoke on Gwen’s behalf when she was accused. You helped us rescue Mordred to save an innocent child from being killed.” She paused. “You told me about the light that guided you to safety when you were searching for the flower to save Merlin after he drank poison. Please, remember the goodness in your heart. And remember one day you will be on the throne, making decisions.” She stood up and removed her hand.

Arthur gaped at her.

Morgana pulled back and gave an ironic curtsey. “Have a nice night, _future king_.”

He was still staring at her after the door slammed shut and her footsteps faded away.

Sleep did not come easy to him that night.

Of course, not long after Arthur had finally, _finally_ fallen asleep, the warning bells starting ringing.

* * *

The next morning, he reported to his father.

“Merlin has escaped. It seems he somehow managed to obtain a set of keys.” _Thank goodness. (How had he done it?)_

“Escape?!” Gaius burst out. “How is this allowed to happen? Incompetence!”

Arthur stared at the physician. In all the time he had known him, he had never heard him speak in such a manner.

“Gaius is right,” his father said slowly. “This is unacceptable. The guards should be punished.”

Arthur whipped around to look at his father. How could he not realize something was wrong with this? Or had he lost all his sense of reason as soon as sorcery was whispered?

Of course he had, Arthur realized. He always did. When had he stopped noticing it?

He realized his father was waiting for his response. “I’ll see to it personally.”

“Search the town, I want Merlin found.”

“Yes sire,” he acquiesced, sparing a glance at Gaius on his way out.

He had some planning to do.

Before it was too late.

* * *

A knock drew him from his thoughts. Arthur took a deep breath before turning from the window as Gaius walked in. _Time to play his part_.

“Ah, Gaius,” he welcomed warmly. “Come in.”

“I believe you wanted to see me.” The elderly physician looked as he always did, but there was something different. Something off. Something Arthur couldn’t quite describe.

“I wanted to thank you in person,” he said as he poured the wine. “It couldn’t’ve been easy for you exposing Merlin like that.”

Gaius smiled as he accepted the cup. “My loyalty to Camelot and your father comes first.”

Arthur kept a smile plastered to his face, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. “And it is much appreciated.” With a stroke of inspiration, he added. “I should also thank you for ridding me of the most incompetent, rude, and lazy servant that Camelot has ever known.” _Attack._

“I’m just sorry you had to suffer his ineptitude for so long.” _Defend_.

Arthur fought to keep the grin off his face. _Feint._ “Well when we catch him, you’ll see him hang.” _Strike._

“Ah.” Gaius – or what appeared to be Gaius – lifted his cup to Arthur in a toast. “I shall look forward to that.” _Check_.

Blood pounded in Arthur’s ears like he was in a battle, but he forced himself not to react. Merlin had indeed been framed. He was innocent.

The goblin in Gaius (how did they all not notice the difference?) seemed to sense the change in Arthur’s mood. “Is something wrong?”

Turning away from the imposter, Arthur gently placed his goblet down on the table. “The Gaius I know,” he mused, as he surreptitiously stepped towards his swords, “would never look forward to seeing Merlin hang, no matter what he’d done.”

He drew his blade in one fluid motion and brought the tip to the goblin’s throat. “Merlin was telling the truth.” _Checkmate._

_And now everything would go back to normal._

Arthur was so caught up in his relief that he didn’t see the counterattack coming until he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and crumpled to the floor. His ears started to itch as he heard the goblin’s footsteps retreating and the door shut.

He’d come so close to saving Merlin and yet he’d failed.

* * *

A few hours later, Arthur’s ears were back to normal and Gwen had visited his chambers again to inform him that the goblin had been trapped and that Gaius was requesting an audience with the king. Arthur had rushed to the council room the relay the news to his father, vouching for Merlin’s innocence and relaying the (humiliating) story of his donkey ears to provide further evidence. It would have to be enough.

Gaius and Uther’s conversation buzzed in the background, but all Arthur could think of was how he’d all but lost his voice to defend Merlin when he most needed him—

“—and Arthur’s donkey ears?”

“I fear I was, my lord. Or at least the goblin was while I was possessed by it.”

How could anyone think magic to be harmless and safe to use?

Uther nodded to Gaius. “Magic has the power to corrupt even the most honorable of men.”

Perhaps it wasn’t as corrupt as his father insisted, but so much of it seemed to be used to hurt or humiliate. It had turned Arthur into a mute laughingstock.

“Indeed,” he heard Gaius reply. “Though I must assure you that Merlin was entirely innocent.”

Arthur’s breath caught in his chest as he watched his father pause and struggle with his words.

“Then he is pardoned.”

Relief flooded Arthur. Everything would go back to normal now.

Muffled struggling and noises came from the lead box that held the goblin.

“May I suggest it is kept where no one will ever open it?” Gaius offered.

Arthur’s father turned to him. “See that it is placed in the vaults.”

Arthur nodded. He would dig a grave deeper than Camelot before that damned box ever saw the light of day again.

Merlin and Gaius bowed and turned to leave, before Uther stopped them. “Gaius…do you know who was responsible for releasing the goblin in the first place?”

Arthur glanced at Merlin. No one else would have noticed, but the two of them had always been able to read each other with ease (not to mention get under each other’s skin). He could _see_ the boy stiffen slightly and adopt an innocent and vaguely perplexed expression.

Arthur’s heart pounded in his ears. _The_ _idiot_ , he thought furiously. Even before Gaius’s cagey “I’m afraid I’ve no idea, my lord,” Arthur _knew_ it had been that dollophead who had caused all of this madness, however unintentional. Where on earth had he even found the goblin, anyway?

The box was shaking again, full of angry beast.

“Now,” his father ordered. “Secure it now.”

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice.

* * *

Dinner that night was a quiet affair, the conversation stilted and sparse. Only Morgana seemed to be enjoying the discomfort.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset about the donkey ears, Arthur,” she remarked slyly over her goblet of wine, “The goblin only brought out what was already inside you.”

Arthur choked on his bread and covered his embarrassment with a long drink from his cup.

“Morgana!” Uther scolded.

She picked delicately at her food, and Arthur braced himself for her follow-up jab.

“Of course,” she continued lightly. “It could have been worse. If this had happened a year or two ago, you probably would have turned into a full ass. But you’ve improved so much since then. You’re only about half the ass you used to be.” Her lips twitched. “Shame you didn’t get a tail as well.”

Arthur heard a poorly-disguised snort from behind him and turned to look at Merlin menacingly. The insolent idiot wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

“I’ll have you know, _Morgana_ ,” he started to say. Or tried to.

What came out instead was a series of brays.

His father choked on his wine and Morgana threw her head back with a howl of laughter. Arthur glowered at her before his face softened. Now that he thought of it, this was the first time he’d heard her genuinely laugh since she had returned from her ordeal.

Still, just because she was enjoying herself again didn’t mean he had to sit there and play the jester. Faking a yawn, he pushed himself up away from the table (not harshly, princely). “My apologies,” he bit out. “I slept rather poorly last night. I should retire. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Take care of that cough, Arthur,” Morgana called as he stalked out, Merlin trailing behind him.

Morgana and his father were still laughing he turned the corner down the hall.

* * *

The door slammed as he stormed into his chambers. Merlin, the idiot, was still trying to smother obvious sniggers.

All that worrying. Those blasted ears and _braying_. The guilt. This was all his fault. If that fool hadn’t released the cursed creature, none of this would have happened. Arthur shouldn’t have to deal with this.

Snarling, he turned around and slammed Merlin – none too gently – against the door.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin amended, trying to force a straight face. “I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Arthur growled, pressing forward.

Merlin leaned as far back as he could while backed up against a door. “You’re right,” he conceded, sounding a bit more contrite (and yet still refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes). “It won’t happen again, sire.”

“See to that it doesn’t,” Arthur replied, releasing his manservant and turning to take off his jacket. “Whoever released the goblin,” he continued casually, “has to live within the castle. There’s no other explanation; the madness of the past few days first turned up within these walls.”

“I guess,” Merlin shrugged noncommittally, as he flitted about the room, turning up Arthur’s covers and drawing the curtains.

“If I ever find this person,” Arthur continued just for the satisfaction of baiting Merlin (he really did deserve it, after all), “I’m going to make them wish they’d never been born.”

Merlin laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less of you, sire.”

Arthur studied the other man. As loyal and steadfast as he could be, Merlin had always been strange and a bit shifty-looking. Not to mention a horrible liar and downright suspicious at times.

Gaius’s claims had proved unfounded, but he _had_ been possessed by a goblin. Who knew what a creature of magic could sense? And what about the other instances where Merlin had been accused and arrested? The Witchfinder? Merlin’s own confession to save Gwen? Were they all just coincidences?

This carefree, exuberant boy bustling about the room looked nothing like the vengeful sorcerers and deceitful witches Arthur had encountered in his patrols and duties. Merlin was one of the kindest people he knew. Could he ever be evil? Or might some magic really be benign?

A sickening thought occurred to Arthur. Merlin would have known better than to learn magic in the heart of Camelot. (If he had at all, of course.) That would mean that he had studied it before even coming to Camelot. (But why would he?) That he’d been hiding it since they’d met that fateful day on the training fields. (And what shouldn’t he?) Had lied to Arthur about it. (Or did he just never tell the whole truth?) Which meant…

Arthur could feel a headache mounting. There were too many implications, too many potentially damning realizations. (If any of it was true, of course. How could it be?) He’d deal with this another day.

For now, though, he would watch.

And wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the dialogue in this chapter was taken from the episode Goblin’s Gold, as well as a deleted scene (where Arthur takes Merlin to the dungeons), which you can view [here](https://youtu.be/SBQzZGZF4ro?t=31).


	2. Forgiveness and Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana seeks out Merlin and they have a long-overdue and sorely needed chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I sat down to write this conversation, it was only supposed to be half a chapter and the entire work was only going to be 2 chapters long. Then Merlin and Morgana started talking and before I knew it, it was almost 5,000 words! It’s a bit dialogue-heavy, but I hope you enjoy!

_“Silence! You've been found guilty of using magic and enchantments. In accordance with our laws, you will pay with your life. Take him away!”_

_It was the worst nightmare. Uther’s face was cold and harsh. Arthur’s, an expressionless mask. And Gaius… The closest person to a father Merlin had ever had and would ever have, since the day Balinor threw himself in front of a sword to save his son’s life._

_Gaius was grinning and waving goodbye as Merlin was hauled away, all because he’d been a stupid and careless idiot and let a goblin possess Gaius and turn him against the castle._

_And then he was being escorted into the courtyard, flanked by guards and wrapped in chains. Crowds of townspeople, many once his friends, gathered on either side, whispering to each other, faces full of disgust. The little girl who’d always thrown soft lettuce when he’d been in the stocks in his first few months in Camelot pointed at him, laughing along with her friends. The slow, ominous beat of the executioner’s drum throbbed in his ears, and—_

_–Merlin was on the pyre, looking out at all the apathetic – fearful (of him?) – faces, and Uther, no Arthur, was raising his hand for someone to set the wood alight, and but it was Arthur in front of him, with the torch raised like Aredian, and the drum beat had sped up – or was that just Merlin’s frantic heart? – and he was trying to flee, really really trying, but his magic, the one thing that was his own, had deserted him abandoned him and the smoke was around him filling his lungs and he could feel the heat creeping toward him and it was so hot he couldn’t breathe and yet he could still hear that drum beating the staccato of his heart but maybe he would see his father again and—_

— he sat bolt upright with a ragged gasp. Merlin sucked in deep breaths of blessed, cool, _clean_ air. His bedsheets had twisted around his chest and legs like rope, and his skin was clammy with sweat. Willing his racing heart to calm, he noticed a persistent tapping coming from his window shutter. Shakily, he stood up and made his way to the window.

It was the middle of the night, but with the moon just past half, there was enough light to make out a familiar shape standing below him. _Morgana?_

 _Yes, Merlin_. Her voice echoed in his head like Mordred’s (and didn’t _that_ seem like ages ago). _I was wondering how long it would take you to answer._ Even in his head, her tone was snide.

_I was asleep! How was I supposed to know that the drum was actually you throwing pebbles up here?_

_Drum?_ Her voice was laced with confusion. _Look, I’m sorry to wake you. But I’d really like to talk face-to-face_. _I know we really haven’t been on speaking terms since everything with Morgause happened, but the events these past few days… Well, it put some things in perspective._

He turned her words over a few times in his head. She really did seem to be earnest, and she had seemed genuinely happy at dinner… Could he risk it?

 _I know our trust in each other is a bit shaky,_ Morgana pressed earnestly, _but I’d like to try to fix that, Merlin. Please?_

Merlin let out a long sigh. Even now, she was impossible to refuse. _Fine. I’ll meet you in the room we’ve used before in a few minutes._

* * *

Morgana was waiting for him when he arrived, jacket hastily throw over a dry shirt. A small fire was already flickering happily near the fireplace, and she was sitting cross-legged by the flames. The smell of burning wood reached his nose, and for a second, he was back in his dream, burning on a pyre.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

He unfroze and came to sit by the fireplace with her. “Not usually,” he replied hesitantly, trying to gauge her mood. “But sometimes, after close calls… Truth be told, you woke me up from a nightmare where I wasn’t as fortunate as I was today.” He swallowed. “I was on the pyre, and Arthur…” He trailed off, the images of Arthur sentencing him and lighting the pyre too horrible to verbalize.

Morgana shuddered. “I’ve had those too. They’re, they’re…”

“Too unsettling to talk about,” Merlin finished for her, tension starting to leak out of his body. _This_ was the Morgana he knew. The one who had insisted on clandestine meetings in the dark of the night, who had bullied him into showing her how to enchant the flames into birds and flowers. Who constantly pushed Merlin to do the right thing, damn the consequences. Who protected her friends and didn’t leave them in alone in forests, chained and powerless, food for serkets.

She sighed. “Yes. Which is why I wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry for waking you in the middle of the night, but there’s less chance that someone will barge in on us. I wanted to give you an explanation…and a warning.” She paused. “I spoke to Arthur after you were arrested.”

Merlin’s blood turned to ice. “And?”

“And he was trying to figure out what to believe. Gaius has treated and cared for him since he was born and he couldn’t understand why he’d suddenly lie about something like that.”

“But I’ve been pardoned! He knows I wasn’t the one to cause the enchantments!”

“Although you _were_ the one to set a goblin loose,” Morgana muttered. Seeing Merlin’s panicked expression, she rushed on. “Not that he knows that! At least, I don’t think he does.”

Thinking back to Arthur’s vague threats that evening, Merlin shuddered. “I hope you’re right.”

Morgana glanced at him and shook her head. “Anyway, Arthur was being a prat and thinking he could trust Gaius more than you, so I smacked some sense into him with a pillow.”

“You _what?_ ”

She snickered. “I also slapped him later, when he couldn’t pull his head out of his arse. You should have seen his expression.”

Merlin snorted. “Okay, as much as I love hearing about Arthur getting whacked around, is there a point to this?”

Morgana’s face turned serious again. “Yes. I had mostly managed to get him to be logical, but he started thinking that even if Gaius were possessed, it might be the truth. He brought up the time you were accused by the Witchfinder and when you tried to turn yourself to save Gwen during that plague, right after you came to Camelot.”

Merlin swallowed back nausea with difficulty. He’d always been concerned that his recklessness to save Gwen would come back to bite him. Not to mention that his carelessness was the reason the Witchfinder had come to Camelot in the first place.

“—which is ridiculous because he’s never had someone who’s cared for him so much beyond his title.” Oh yes, Morgana was still talking. “Merlin, what I’m trying to say… I know we’re both careful, but you need to be extra vigilant from here on out. I think I threw him off the scent, but I’m not sure how long it’ll stay that way. He’s smarter than you give him credit for.”

Merlin snorted disbelievingly. “Arthur? He can barely recognize magic if it dances right in front of him. And it practically does.”

Morgana sighed. “Be that as it may, Arthur’s a hunter. Once he gets a whiff of a trail, he’s loathe to let it go.”

“But he hasn’t picked up on it before,” Merlin retorted. “And he’s had lots of opportunities,” he conceded. “I’ll admit, I’ve not always been as subtle I probably should have been, like in Ealdor or with the afanc or when Aredian grabbed you. But he’s never given me any indication that he’s even suspected me of having magic. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Morgana let out an annoyed huff. “Don’t you realize why, though? It’s because he doesn’t want to see it. He _cares_ about you Merlin. He was concerned about protesting your arrest to Uther because he was worried that the king would assume he’d been enchanted and would move up the execution. You should have seen him; he was torn up about having to having to arrest you.

“I know it doesn’t always look like he cares,” she acknowledged, seeing Merlin start to open his mouth in argument, “but growing up with Uther as a father stunted his emotional growth. He started training to be a knight when he could barely hold a sword, and his entire life, he’s had Uther beating it into his brain that showing emotions is a weakness. Arthur’s _afraid_. If he does know how to show he cares, it’s buried deep because he’s probably afraid that Uther will rip anything he cares about away from him.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Now that I think of it, he’s tried that already. When Arthur came back with that flower to save you from the poison you drank, Uther threw him in the dungeons. No one else knows this, but he told me later that he told to Uther that he didn’t care if he spent a week or even a month in the stocks, that he _begged_ him to get the flower to Gaius. And you know what that bastard tyrant did? He crushed the flower in his fist, told him that he could find another servant, and dropped it just out of reach outside the cell door. Arthur spent almost an hour straining to reach far enough to get the flower without the guards seeing, and if it hadn’t been for Gwen, you would have…”

Merlin’s breath caught in his chest. “I—I didn’t realize he was that desperate,” he managed hoarsely. He started to stand up, suddenly anxious to go somewhere to process that information alone. “I should go—”

Morgana caught his wrist with a laugh and pulled him back down. “Oh no you don’t. We still have other things to talk about. But please, be careful. Arthur cares about you, and in the past, he’s questioned whether all magic can be evil when it can also heal people, so I like to think that might not turn either of us in. But he lashes out when he’s cornered or feels like he’s been betrayed, and I worry what he might do before he thinks things through.”

Merlin stared at the fire, trying not to think of his dream. “I promise I’ll do my best.” Glancing back at Morgana, he asked, “You said you wanted to talk about something else as well?”

She exhaled. “Yes. I also owe you an explanation, Merlin. I know I haven’t been fair to you since you convinced me to destroy the staff during the attack a few months back.”

Merlin felt the blood rush from his face. “Morgana, I know I’ve said it before, but I’m so sor—”

“Just let me talk, will you?” she snapped, then sighed. “Look. This is hard enough to talk about. It’s just easier if you don’t interrupt.”

He nodded.

Taking another deep breath seemingly to steel herself, Morgana continued, twisting her shirt in her hands as she talked. “After you pulled off the bracelet, I was very disoriented. But you convinced me to do what was right – not for Uther, but for all of the innocents. And the people I do care about, like Gwen and Arthur. As horrible as Uther is, Cenred is even worse, and being partly responsible for Camelot falling in a massacre like that…it would have made me just as bad as Uther. So even though my mind was screaming not to trust you, my heart and my magic were telling me I should.

“After I woke up after the battle and had some time to myself, I started going through my memories and realized that you were completely right – Morgause had enchanted the bracelet. Not a lot, not enough to completely change me right away or control me, but my dreams have shown me how it fed on my fears and resentments and amplified them.

“Learning all of this, though… Merlin, you have to understand, she’s my _sister_. I haven’t had true family in so long, save for maybe Arthur. As soon as my father died, Uther took me in as his ward. But being in court has cost me so much of my own autonomy, and he’s never replaced the father I lost. I don’t think he’s ever really tried or cared to do it. Finding Morgause, it was like being given a second chance at family. And she gave me the bracelet with our father’s seal on it, and it helped me get my visions under control. You tried so hard to help me figure something out, but we both know nothing was working. And then here a _sister_ , a true sister by blood, comes along and gives me the relief I was so desperate for, and it was like a miracle.”

Morgana let out a mirthless laugh and shook her head. “A miracle that made me blind to everything else. Even if there hadn’t been a spell on the bracelet… I’m not sure how different things would have been. I didn’t want to believe that she could be manipulating me. I was terrified of Uther and thrilled to have not only a sister, but a sister _like me_ , and I ignored all the warning signs. The realization that she had tried to influence me and dictate my actions, maybe even from the start… I think it cracked something in me. It ripped away that whole dream that I had built up, shattered my belief in family, burnt my last strand of optimism. I still care for her because she’s my last remaining family, but I can’t trust her anymore.”

Merlin fidgeted, slightly uncomfortable with how personal this had become and generally starting to feel like Morgana had forgotten he was there. But she clearly needed to talk, and he had sworn to himself after the siege with Cenred that he would help her however he could.

The fire crackled merrily for a minute or two before Morgana took another deep breath and resumed her story.

“I know I’ve been cold and distant to you since I returned, Merlin. But part of it… Well, you were the one who revealed Morgause’s betrayal to me. For a time, I blamed you for being the one to shatter my happy fantasy, however false it was.” She looked away into the fire, the flames turning her eyes gold.

Merlin reached out and squeezed her hand. “Morgana,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I know how much it meant to you when you discovered you had a sister. More than you know. And please believe me when I say that I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

She squeezed back. “I know, Merlin.” She smiled. “I’ve missed this. Missed trusting each other like this. Missed confiding in each other. Would you… Do you think we could try to build up that trust again?”

He grinned. “I’d love that more than anything. And I feel like our conversation tonight has already done wonders to repair it.” A thought occurred to him and he frowned. “If you don’t mind me asking, though… You said that was part of the reason why you’ve been distant recently. Was there another part?”

She sighed. “Yes. Yes, there was.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I mentioned before that the bracelet fed on my fears and resentments. Even though I agreed to take the poison to end the sleeping spell when the Knights of Medhir were coming, and even though I truly believed that it was the right thing to do, I think a part of me still resented you for talking me into it and not finding another solution, even though there was no time and we had no resources. But even with you giving me the antidote as soon as you could, recovering from the poison was so painful and it took several weeks for me to regain my strength. The bracelet took advantage of that, especially while I was weak, and I started to wonder if you’d even tried to find another solution, or if you had actually been trying to kill me and that Morgause had been the one to save me. By the time I came back to Camelot…I hated you. I wanted you dead. I’m so, so sorry.”

Merlin sighed, trying to ignore the memory of looming serkets at the back of his mind. “I know. And I’m sorry it all turned into such a mess. But I forgive you. Really.”

She passed her hand over her eyes quickly. “It’s taken the past few months for me to sort out what was from the spell’s influence and what I truly believed.”

He swallowed. “And… what do you believe?”

Morgana gave him a small smile. “I believe that we were both backed into a corner and had no other choice. And seeing you arrested and sentenced to death during this debacle with the goblin, it made me realize that I do trust you and want to keep you from harm. That my hatred was unfounded. It’s why I confronted Arthur about it.” She cocked her head. “I am curious, though. What made you realize that my death would destroy the spell?”

Merlin’s gut clenched. She should know about the dragon. He might lose her forgiveness and the friendship he’d regained that night, but she had trusted him with so much, and it was only right. Hopefully this wouldn’t damn him. “It… Morgana, you have to understand. I was so desperate and terrified. We didn’t know if the Knights were going to just kill Uther or if they were going to kill everyone, and Arthur was out there all alone and ready to pass out from exhaustion, and I was so worried and… I went to the dragon.”

Her face turned stony. “You mean the overgrown reptile beneath the castle that hates me and calls me a ‘witch’?”

Merlin grimaced at the harshness in her voice. “Yes. That one. He told me you were the source of the spell and that to stop it, I had to kill you. But I told him I’d find another way because we were friends, and I thought—”

“—that if I took the poison, Morgause would stop her attack and you could give me the antidote in time and everything would be fine. I understand, Merlin, I really do. It was the best plan either of us could come up with at the time.”

“And then as soon as I gave you the antidote, Morgause knocked me out. When I woke up, you were gone. I’m so sorry, Morgana. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

She smiled. “It’s alright. Honestly, even if I had been awake, I probably would had wanted to escape from Camelot for a little bit, and Morgause would have been the perfect opportunity.” Frowning, she asked, “What happened after I left? Gwen said there was a dragon attack, and that you went out and faced it with Arthur and the knights.” Her eyes widened in horror. “Merlin, please tell me you didn’t.”

Merlin buried his face in his hands. “I know. Gods, I know. I still hate myself for it. I probably always will But in order to get the information about the sleeping spell out of that manipulative bastard, I had to promise to free him. He’s been nagging me for ages, but he knew how desperate I was, and I swore on my mother’s life that I would free him. And after the disaster with the Questing Beast… I couldn’t let that happen again. So the next day after Camelot awoke, I went down to the cavern. I tried to make him promise that he wouldn’t harm Camelot, but he wouldn’t promise anything. Said he had ‘but one road left’ as the last of his kind. I cut his chains and he flew off, and then the next night he started raining fire down from the sky upon the citadel.

“He wanted to kill Uther, but Uther wouldn’t leave the castle. The devastation the first night was horrible. The knights tried firing flaming arrows at him, but it didn’t do anything. My magic was useless. Arthur was wounded and the western wall was almost collapsing and there were so many _dead_ —” he let out a choked sob. “I made a deal to stop one threat only to release another. It was all my fault.”

Morgana squeezed his hand. “Merlin, you had no other option. You do realize that it probably would have happened eventually.”

“But I knew something like this would happen. I could have prepared. I _should_ have—”

“Hush. You and I both know that preparing for something like a dragon attack is nigh impossible. Now, what happened? How did you stop the attacks? I certainly know that _Arthur_ didn’t do it.”

Merlin could feel his throat closing up. He swallowed again, willing himself to talk and praying to that the inevitable tears would hold off. “The next morning, Arthur was reporting to Uther, and Gaius said that only a dragonlord could stop the destruction. That there was one named Balinor who had escaped the Purge and was last seen many years ago across in the border in Cenred’s kingdom. Arthur decided he was going to find him, so we left, just the two of us. But while I was packing, I was asking Gaius about the dragonlords, and… I don’t know how to say this but…” He took a calming breath. “Gaius told me that Balinor was my father.”

Morgana gasped.

Merlin forged on, blinking back hot tears. “He said that he’d helped him escape from Camelot during the Purge and sent him to my mother in Ealdor. She took him in and they fell in love but that Uther found out where he was and sent his knights to Ealdor. And that was why he left. Morgana, I understand exactly why your realizations about Morgause shattered you so much. Because it was almost the exact same for me. I grew up my entire life as a bastard, thinking I was a freak, that my father left because of me or that he was dead, and he’d been alive that whole time in the same kingdom I grew up in, and _no one ever told me._ Not my mother, and not Gaius. Not even when my mother decided to send me into the belly of the beast in Camelot, where one misstep will see me burned. It was too _dangerous_ ,” he finished bitterly.

“Oh Merlin,” Morgana said softly. “But were you able to find him? Tell him that you’re his son?”

A hysterical laugh escaped from his chest. “We found him, alright. Arthur had passed out from his injury, but I found him. He was living in a cave for twenty years. Completely alone. He agreed to heal Arthur for me, and I tried to ask him to come and stop the attacks. He was so bitter, and I couldn’t blame him. He refused to help, because that would be helping Uther. Said that he’d hunted him like an animal and destroyed all of his kin, everything he loved.”

The prickling tears Merlin had been holding back finally burst forth and started running down his cheeks, ugly and hot, but he didn’t care anymore. “He said to let Uther die. To let Camelot fall, that he didn’t care if everyone in Camelot died. I asked him what he’d do if he had a son in Camelot, and—” Grief clogged his throat, but he choked out, “He didn’t even know. Said he didn’t have one. I tried to tell him, but then Arthur started mumbling in his sleep and I couldn’t risk it.”

Morgana squeezed his hands in silent support.

“The next day,” he said through sniffles, “Arthur woke up and was fine. He tried to convince Balinor to help Camelot, but he refused. I tried to convince him one last, tried to tell him, but I didn’t see the point anymore. And I just turned my back on him.

“He caught up to us that afternoon, saying that he owed a debt to some people in Camelot for helping him escape. Later, it was just the two of us collecting firewood, and I asked him about Ealdor. And, and I told him about my mother, how she never married. That I was his son.”

Merlin laughed through his tears. “It was one of the happiest moments of my life. He said he didn’t know what it was to have a son, but that night, we sat around the fire while Arthur was asleep. Just talking. He was whittling the whole time. Told me it was a present. I promised that I’d take him back to my mother afterwards, that we could be a family. And he told me about the dragonlords, how it’s handed down from parent to child.” He grinned at the memory. “My father told me to get some sleep. For the first time in my life, I had a father send me off to bed. ‘Goodnight, son,’ he told me. And I took a minute to respond because it had to be perfect. I couldn’t mess up what I said. So I said ‘Sleep well, father,’ and fell asleep with a smile on my face for the first time in a long time.”

He looked up at Morgana. She was smiling and her eyes shone with tears in the firelight.

“And then…” he struggled to continue. His head was starting to hurt. “The first thing I saw when I woke up was the miniature wooden dragon he had carved for me. But Cenred’s men had found us, and I was so rattled, so shaken that while I was fighting, one of them knocked my sword away and I froze. I should have done _something_. Arthur wasn’t anywhere near. But between one heartbeat and the next, my father had thrown himself in the path of the sword and saved my life.”

A wretched sob tore through Merlin’s throat. “He fell back against me, and he was dying. _Dying_. I had known him for not even two days, and then he was dying in my arms, telling me how to face my first dragon, but I didn’t want a damn dragon, I wanted my _father_. My father, who, with all my power I couldn’t even save.” He could still feel Balinor’s limp weight in his arms. His cheek burned from where his father had caressed it with his dying breath. He choked on a sob. “My father died, and it _was all my fault!_ ”

The pressure that had been building in his head exploded in white hot pain as his magic rushed through him unbidden. Memories laced with anguish and grief flashed before him.

He’s kneeling above his father’s body, forcing himself to stop crying as Arthur yells in despair for Camelot. Gaius’s face, full of pity, swims at him through the sheen of tears that he tries to hide as Arthur informs Uther that the last dragonlord is dead. Guilt lances through his heart as Arthur as he tells him ‘no man is worth your tears.’ He’s looking on in horror as Kilgharrah scorches the horses and knights with fire and barely misses Arthur. Balinor’s words, _a dragon's heart is on its right side, not its left,_ echo in his head as Arthur stabs the opposite side. His father’s voice choruses with his own as he calls to Kilgharrah, banishes him, and watches him vanish to the night.

And then he’s falling through foreign memories. _Morgana’s_ memories. He can feel her hate for Uther raging through her veins as she’s dragged by guards and shackled in a cell while their soul grieves for Gwen. Her panic and anger as Gaius dismisses terrifying visions as nightmares to be drugged away. Her terror as Aredian looms and Uther condemns Gaius to the stake with the echo _I’m next, I’m next_ running in her head. Her aching joy as she sleeps easily thanks to the bracelet, thinking _family_.

Her body on fire as poison courses through her while the antidote runs down her throat. His panic as serkets loom and paralyze him with pain. Her horror as she realizes what she’s becoming as she clings to the tempting, seductive power of the Rowan staff. Their heartbreak as she loses family to betrayal, as he loses family to death.

And then they’re back by the fireplace, wrapped in each other’s arms. Silent tears pour down Morgana’s face and they’re shaking with grief, the both of them. With a flash of clarity, Merlin realizes that if Morgause’s betrayal cracked something in Morgana, then Balinor’s death must have shattered something in him as well.

But shared grief is cathartic, and as Morgana pulls her cloak across both their shoulders so they can huddle together in the dark before dawn, Merlin can feel his heart gradually beginning to heal.

A few hours later, the hopeful rays of a new day find them still there, unmoved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm planning on one or two more chapters for this work -- Arthur and his musings will be back next time!
> 
> If you’re feeling motivated, please consider leaving a comment. Constructive feedback is always welcome and much appreciated!


	3. Memories and Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur mulls things over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in getting this up! I got stuck trying to figure out how I wanted this chapter to go and then life got in the way. Hopefully this still flows with the rest of the story -- I'd love to hear if you have thoughts or feedback in the comments!

_Lunging forward, Arthur disarmed and dispatched the last Essetir knight. Damn patrol. The fight had taken mere minutes, but they’d already wasted too much time. They had to get back to Camelot before nightfall. The citadel couldn’t afford another night of dragonfire._

_He looked around for Merlin and the dragonlord and swore under his breath. He’d let himself be lured away from them far too easily._

_An anguished cry came from his right. Arthur’s head whipped back toward the clearing just in time to see a dark figure fly into a tree trunk and fall to the ground motionless. Sorcery. Had the dragonlord turned on them?_

_Arthur could scarcely breathe._ Merlin.

_His feet were pounding against the forest floor before he could think. He should have never left Merlin alone with that man, that sorcerer, and now he was—_

_Arthur slowed as he came to the clearing, trying to make sense of the scene before him. There was a body at the base of a tree, but it was clad in mail and armor. One of Cenred’s men. But that meant—_

_A strangled sob broke through his racing thoughts. Turning, he saw two figures huddled on the ground. Was Merlin—?_

_No. Merlin was cradling the other man, the dragonlord. Weeping. But alive. Merlin was fine._

_Arthur bit down a hysterical laugh of relief before realizing what that meant._ No. _Camelot was doomed, and Merlin was crying and Arthur was suddenly staring down the dragon’s maw as it spat blazing flames at him—_

“Rise and shine!”

Arthur sat straight up in bed, grabbing the knife from under his mattress before he even opened his eyes. The intruder stumbled backward and something metal clanged to the floor.

“Watch it!” came a disgruntled voice.

Arthur tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes, brain still sluggish.

“It _is_ my job to wake you up,” the voice continued petulantly, “No need to _gut_ me for it. Seriously…”

The sunlight streaming onto Arthur’s bed was blinding, and he shifted, trying to get out of the light. Through his sleep-blurred vision, he could just make out a ratty red neckerchief.

“…Merlin?”

His manservant snorted. “Who else would it be?”

Arthur shook his head. “Sorry. You just startled me—”

“ _Sorry?_ ” The mattress dipped next to him as Merlin sat down on the edge of his bed. His concerned face finally came into focus. “Are you alright? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

The memory of Merlin’s heartbroken sobbing and tearstained face unexpectedly resurfaced. His odd silence on their quest to find the dragonlord, how quickly he bonded and cried over a man he’d only just met. Why on earth would that have been the case, except—

No. Arthur abruptly cut off that train of thought. Now was not the time to go down that path. He had duties to do.

Merlin was pushing him back against the bed, hand to his forehead. “—not a fever. Maybe something you ate? Open your mouth—”

Arthur shifted back as Merlin tried to pry his jaws apart. “I’m fine! Merlin, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Merlin ducked Arthur’s swinging arms in his effort to inspect the prince, accidentally kneeing him in the groin as he climbed over him.

“Ow! Merlin!”

“If you could just—hold—still—”

“Stop – will you just—get off me!” With a final push, Merlin went tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. Glowering, Arthur threw his covers back and stood up.

Merlin glared up at him from the floor. “I was trying to _help!_ ” he exclaimed indignantly. “You looked so worried when you woke up and I thought maybe something had happened. And then you _apologized_ , which you never do!” With a huff he stood and stomped over to Arthur’s desk, muttering under his breath. “Stupid prat. Ungrateful clotpole, can’t even just…”

Arthur snorted. At the very least, Merlin’s rambling restored some degree of normalcy to his morning. Walking over to his breakfast, he glanced at his manservant, who gave him a cheeky smile around a mouthful of stolen bread and cheese. “Set out my armor, will you? I want to get some training in this morning.”

With any luck, he could forget his unsettling dreams and their uncomfortable implications.

* * *

Training, as it turned out, did anything but ease Arthur’s mind. It seemed that no matter how intense the drill or the number of opponents he sparred, magic occupied his thoughts at every turn. He fought two of his knights blindfolded, and in the darkness, skeleton warriors and Knights of Medhir surged toward him, invulnerable and inevitable. Four of his men faced off against him, and he was back in Ealdor, outnumbered by Kanen’s men and saved by a magical windstorm.

During a break, Arthur accepted a cup of water from Merlin and remembered his friend’s pale, terrified face as Arthur raged about magic (for _saving_ them?) and Will sacrificed his life to save the prince. When he closed his eyes, he could still see stone statues and painted snakes coming alive to kill him. Could still remember the heat of the dragon’s flames as it scorched the battlements and terrorized the citadel.

He went to blow off his frustration with macework, but one look at the straw dummy, and it was Merlin, evading him and grinning in the marketplace as Arthur tripped over obstacles that surely hadn’t been there a moment before.

Archery did nothing to improve his mood. All he could think of with the dull _thunk_ of each arrow was a shining white unicorn falling and Merlin’s shout ringing in his ears. _What have you done?_ He could still remember the winding lines of starving, desperate people during the cursed famine and drought, the trickery of Anhora’s trials and the sensation of (false) poison running down his throat as he drank to protect Merlin and atone for his crime, the gentle beauty of the resurrected unicorn. How could something so peaceful cause so much death and misery?

He went to get another gulp of water.

(And, if, by the time he went to spar with the knight hopefuls, Arthur was a bit more brutal than necessary, no one questioned him. The sight of Merlin standing at the edge of the field and laughing with Gaius only served to irk him more. It wasn’t until his opponent dropped his sword and fell backward with an undignified yelp that Arthur finally barked out a laugh and the tension of his morning started to ease.)

* * *

As Arthur left the armory for his other duties, he glanced back at the shield hiding the door that Morgana used in her attempt to smuggle the Druid boy out. _They conspire against me_ , his father had said. _His people conspire to overthrow me._ How much harm could a boy and a man buying supplies really do? The Druids were known to be peaceful and typically stayed far away from Camelot.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked from the down the hallway. “Everything okay?”

Arthur cleared his head with a shake and flashed his manservant a smile that was more confident than he felt. “Of course.”

* * *

Merlin trailed behind him later that morning, unusually silent as they made their way through the Lower Town to the courtyard. Everywhere Arthur looked brought up unpleasant memories. Over there, he had arrested Morgana and the Druid boy as they fled from the guards. At that corner, he had arrested Gwen’s father Tom after the sorcerer Tauren had fled.

Tauren. Arthur stopped in his tracks. On these very stones, he had stood with Merlin and watched guards escort the staff of an inn to their executions for having unknowingly hosted Tauren. “ _They committed a serious crime_ ,” he had told Merlin.

“ _Giving a man a bed for the night?”_

 _“Not a man,”_ he’d replied. “ _A_ sorcerer _.”_

What kind of man did Merlin think Arthur was?

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, and Arthur jumped. Merlin’s worried face was a few breaths from his own. “Are you sure you’re alright, Arthur?”

No, he most certainly wasn’t, in part because of the man in front of him. “I’ve a bit of a headache,” he admitted.

Merlin squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll bring you one of Gaius’s remedies to take with lunch.”

* * *

Later, Arthur paced his chambers, desperately trying to focus on patrol reports while memories flashed through his mind.

_His father turning to him, saying, “Do you hear me? I want him executed at dawn.”_

_Morgana, arguing back. “What have these people done to you? Why are you so full of hate?”_

_Uther, pressing her against a chair, hand at her throat._

_Arthur, passing by another chamber, months later, hearing Morgana shouting at the king after Tom’s death. “You have blood on your hands, Uther Pendragon! Blood that will never wash off!”_

_Morgana, seething with righteous fury. “The kingdom is doomed! For one by one you make enemies of us all!”_

_Morgana, with nerves of steel. “Only a madman hears the truth as treason.”_

_Brave. Braver than Arthur has ever been._

_Morgana, sitting on the filthy floor of a cell. Shackled to the wall like an animal and yet spirit unquenched, sneering at Arthur. “Does the king’s little helper bring a message?”_

How many times had Arthur stayed silent and let injustices happen?

He had blood on his hands, too.

He could still remember sitting at the reins of his too-large warhorse, armor heavy on his shoulders, as he peered at the druid camp through the trees. “ _Spare the women and children,”_ he had said as battle-hungry knights rushed past him.

He could still hear the screams. Could still see their shadowy shapes collapsing from arrows and swords.

He remembered the stench in the air. Remembered how, back at the castle, he had scrubbed at his skin until it was raw and fallen asleep to the horrors of the raid seared in his mind.

 _“You have proven your bravery in battle and shown yourself a worthy heir,”_ his father had told him.

What sort of battle was it when you attacked a village full of children?

Arthur sank to the floor, tears leaking between his eyelids.

Blood that will never wash off, indeed.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Arthur attended court and listened as Uther heard petitioners, settled disputes, and granted pardons. On that very floor, castle guards had thrown Gwen before the throne to satisfy the king’s obsession with finding the sorcerer responsible for the plague. As always, the instant magic was mentioned, the king saw naught but guilt. Arthur had only barely managed to save Merlin when the idiot had stormed into the council session later that day and claimed he had cured Gwen’s father. _(Had he been taunting them all with the truth?)_

On those same stones, the Witchfinder had accused Merlin of being a sorcerer and then days later forced a weakened and abused Gaius to confess to sorcery. Arthur remembered watching Merlin’s face as Gaius was sentenced and jumping to drag him out of the throne room before he could do something foolish and charge the Witchfinder. He remembered how his friend struggled in his hold as Arthur took him down to the dungeons to see Gaius one last time. How, when Arthur finally released his grip, Merlin’s first instinct was to throw a punch.

Had he just been that furious at Arthur, or had he panicked because he thought he was going to be thrown on the flames as well?

Gaius had been saved from the pyre by mere heartbeats because Gwen had stormed up to Arthur, looked him in the eye, and said that he could do the right thing and start behaving like a prince. How many innocent people had died because everyone else was too afraid to speak up?

Arthur looked over to where Merlin stood between Gaius and Gwen. All three been sentenced to death for sorcery at some point; Merlin more than Gwen and Gaius combined.

There were too many uncanny (lucky) coincidences for all the accusations to have been lies. Merlin miraculously saving Arthur from Lady Helen’s knife while the rest of the room was drowsy with sleep. Valiant’s snakes coming alive at the perfect moment to prove Arthur right. The sudden gust of wind that helped defeat the afanc. Merlin’s strange affinity for Druids and unicorns and his uncanny sense whenever something was amiss. A frog jumping out of the Witchfinder’s mouth when Gaius’s life was on the line. Merlin’s shock when his friend Will had confessed to sorcery. How could Arthur have been so blind to the signs?

The goblin had spoken the truth. Merlin was a sorcerer.

 _And to what extent?_ Arthur wondered uneasily. He could barely remember a magical attack while growing up, but since Merlin had arrived in Camelot, the number of incidents involving magic certainly seemed to have spiked, between assassination attempts, plagues, magical beasts, and undead armies, to name a few. Could that possibly be related to Merlin? Could he have orchestrated it all?

His manservant always seemed so naïve and carefree. Was he really the kind of person to play the long game of scheming? But then why would he spend so much time gaining Arthur’s trust? And why on earth would he try to harm Camelot when he had done so much to save it and its people?

 _Those who practice magic know only evil,_ his father had said once (a hundred times). _They bear no sign, no mark. There is no sense of evil in the eye._

If that was true, why did it sound so personal, like he had personally been betrayed by magic? Had his mother’s spirit that Morgause conjured really spoken the truth? That her death was the cost of Arthur’s birth? That instead of dealing with his guilt, the king had started the Great Purge?

It had been so easy to let Merlin talk him down from killing his father, to not see his father as a genocidal tyrant and the flawed father he was, to believe that the orders he carried out for his father were always for the good of Camelot.

Deep down, though, Arthur knew it was true. He really had been born of magic, and his mother and hundreds of magic users had paid the price. But if Morgause had told the truth, then Merlin had lied. Lied flat out to Arthur’s face, and for what? To save the life of the king who would see him dead in an instant? Who was content to let him die of poisoned wine after saving the prince’s life?

Pain brought Arthur back to the present. His fingers were throbbing from gripping his chair’s armrest too tightly. Uther was still trying to settle a dispute between two merchants.

Arthur took a calming breath and massaged his sore hand. He could deal about _those_ particular lies another day. Right now, he had to deal with the other tangled mess of thoughts in his head.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

Merlin had apparently saved Arthur’s life several times with magic.

Merlin always seemed to be able to escape from the dungeons without a trace.

Merlin would vanish unexpectedly, but always show up when he was needed most.

Merlin had lied to Arthur.

By the laws of the kingdom that Arthur was sworn to uphold as Crown Prince, he had every reason to turn Merlin in. _Should_ turn Merlin in.

And yet, despite that knowledge, Arthur trusted him. Simply. Deeply. Sometimes even more than he trusted himself.

He thought back to the afanc in the water supply. As the illness spread unchecked throughout the citadel, his father warned him that people would soon turn to magic for a cure and that would undermine the crown’s authority. Not because it was evil, but because it challenged their rule. Was it true that with magic, they could have prevented all those deaths, just like Gwen’s father? What kind of king would rather see his people die than use whatever tools to help them? And how could something that healed corrupt people?

No, Arthur realized, _power_ corrupted. Power of any type. Sorcerers could lay curses and enchant people against their will, but nobles could abuse their power over servants. Knights could abuse their authority over commoners. Employers could threaten to withhold pay from employees. Parents could mistreat children. The more power someone had, the more damage they could cause by misusing it.

For every person killed by magic, how many had his father ordered executed with a wave of his hand? How many had Arthur arrested or attacked at his behest? How many times had Uther threatened or punished Morgana for standing up for what was right or speaking her mind? How many times had he manipulated Arthur into doing his bidding for a hint of affection?

There was no way around it. Uther had become a tyrant, and Arthur rarely pushed back. No wonder Merlin got so jumpy whenever magic was brought up. A single misstep and it would all be over.

Arthur looked over to where Merlin and Gwen stood side-by-side in the throne room, whispering and grinning to pass the time. His friend’s ridiculous ears were backlit by the sunlight streaming through the windows, and just like that, Arthur’s tumultuous emotions from the past few days melted away.

As surely as he loved Camelot, he knew in his bones. There was no evil in Merlin’s heart, only in the injustice of his father’s laws.

And while Arthur might not be able to overturn them yet, he could damn well start fighting back.

* * *

The court session concluded not long after, but every time Arthur looked at his father, he felt a wave of nausea and guilt. Feigning a headache, he excused himself and informed Merlin that he would take his supper alone that night.

That was why Arthur was now eating his dinner in the quiet of his chambers. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Merlin seated by the fireplace, diligently working on Arthur’s chainmail with a cleaning rag. His fingers were black from dirt and oil, and the mail seemed to glow slightly in the firelight. Had Merlin ever used magic on Arthur’s armor or swords? If he could clean it all with a snap of his fingers, why would he spend so much time painstakingly oiling each link?

A while back, Arthur recalled, the bathwater one morning had been inexplicably boiling. Had his manservant heated it with magic? What other mundane chores did he do magic?

The hypnotic sounds of the crackling fire lulled Arthur into a light doze, and his thoughts wandered back to his dream that morning, of dragonfire and a dead dragonlord.

He frowned. Merlin was a strange bird, and while magic might explain many of his odd statements and strange excuses, there was something different about his bond with the dragonlord. Something was still missing to solve the riddle of Merlin.

The connection had become obvious when Balinor caught up to their camp. The pair had spoken in hushed voiced while gathering firewood, falling silent when Arthur had come near on his patrol of the area. There had been some secret that he wasn’t supposed to know or overhear. Merlin’s magic? Balinor clearly had been a sorcerer – he had miraculously healed Arthur’s festering shoulder wound overnight and threw Cenred’s soldier across the clearing. Was that why Merlin had been so taken with the dragonlord? Was there some sort of secret network of sorcerers? Could they recognize each other on sight? Could they sense each other?

No, that didn’t explain the tenderness and longing and sadness that flashed in Merlin’s eyes every time he looked at Balinor. There was something else at play here.

Arthur had tried to console Merlin the afternoon after the dragonlord’s death by treating him like a knight. _No man is worth your tears_. That should have cheered Merlin up, but his manservant had covered up deep hurt with a fake smile and half-hearted joking, and Arthur had been too preoccupied with dying to fully analyze it at the time. Now, though, he wondered. What could have made a stranger like Balinor suddenly so dear to him? They hadn’t even known him two full days.

Arthur thought of Merlin clutching a small wooden carving of a dragon as they packed up their camp to return to Camelot. He thought of the morning after they had found Balinor, Merlin saying somberly, “ _I thought he’d be something more._ ” He thought of Merlin’s beaming smile as the three of them ate dinner in silence over the campfire. He thought of the odd familiarity of the dragonlord’s face that he couldn’t quite place, and how he’d stayed close to Merlin when Cenred’s men attacked. He thought of Merlin coming along on a suicidal mission to face off against a dragon and somehow managing to be the only one to emerge unscathed.

Arthur thought of Hunith’s soft, round face and Balinor’s sharp, thin one and suddenly his answer was sitting hunched by the hearth.

His stomach dropped and air rushed out of his lungs in shock. _“That’s the same with my father,”_ his friend had once said. “ _I never knew him.”_ Resting his elbows on the table, Arthur pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes in a desperate attempt to stifle his reaction. “ _I thought he’d be something more_.” That couldn’t have been the first time Merlin had met his father, could it?

And _gods_ , Arthur hadn’t even given him time to grieve. He’d insisted they push on to Camelot in all haste, and Merlin hadn’t breathed another word about it. He couldn’t have, of course, because magic or no, if Uther had caught wind of a dragonlord’s son in Camelot, there would have been an execution before the next dawn.

Merlin had to conceal so much of himself. How much of his personality was even real? Was his humor just a way to mask sadness and suffering? Was his clumsiness just a way to hide up his fear? Merlin was always there for Arthur when he was stressed or worried, but did Merlin have anyone for himself? Gaius treated Merlin like a son; surely, he was able to support his ward. But was there anyone else? Gwen? Morgana?

And why on earth had he come to Camelot in the first place? Uther’s laws on magic were well known throughout the Five Kingdoms. Hunith had to have known.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice shattered the meditative quiet. Arthur looked up, startled. He had forgotten his friend was still in the room. “Are you feeling ill?”

Arthur stared at the man standing across the table from him. For the first time that day, he really studied his friend’s face. Merlin looked exhausted, with dark shadows bruising under his eyes. Had he slept at all the past few days? Why hadn’t Arthur noticed? ( _Of course, there was too much he hadn’t noticed until just now._ )

It felt like he was looking at a stranger, and yet he had never known his friend better.

Merlin’s brow furrowed as he waited for Arthur’s response.

Arthur fingered his mother’s ring. The tension in the air was palpable, and he felt as if he were standing at the at the edge of a cliff, hoping the wind would catch him if he fell. Once he jumped, there would be no going back.

Meeting Merlin’s blue ( _blue, and sometimes gold_ ) eyes, he took a deep breath and pushed himself out of his chair.

One more step, and everything would change.

He reached across the table and gently grasped Merlin’s wrist, giving what was hopefully a reassuring squeeze.

“Merlin,” he began, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter -- the big discussion between Arthur and Merlin!
> 
> If you’re feeling motivated, please consider leaving a comment. Constructive feedback is always welcome and much appreciated!


	4. Discussions and Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

_One more step, and everything would change._

_Arthur reached across the table and gently grasped Merlin’s wrist, giving what was hopefully a reassuring squeeze._

_“Merlin,” he began, “I know.”_

* * *

Arthur had to give him credit; he hid it well. It was only through his grip on Merlin’s wrist that he could feel his friend’s pulse race and muscles tense. Otherwise, aside from his eyes darting about, his body language betrayed nothing.

“Know what, sire?” Merlin asked with an easy laugh and impish smile. “There are lots of things that you could know, I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Merlin—”

“Is it that you finally realized that I didn’t scrub your floors today because I already did it last week? Or is it that the stable boys said they’d muck out the stalls for me because I was running around after you all day? I can’t believe—”

“Merlin.” Had he always been this good at deflecting, or had Arthur just been willfully ignorant?

“—because it really is silly that you still order me to do that since that’s actually their _job_. Or— _wait_ —maybe you figured out that—”

“Merlin!”

“What?” he asked exasperatedly.

Arthur swallowed in the silence. He could still backtrack, pretend this never happened, laugh it all off as a joke. Merlin would certainly never bring it up while Uther lived, and maybe not even after his death. This was Arthur’s choice. His chance to start doing the right thing. He cleared his throat while Merlin looked on expectantly.

“I know…. that the goblin was telling the truth.”

Merlin went completely, utterly still.

His pulse pounded against Arthur’s fingertips.

“The truth…” Merlin licked his lips. “The truth about what?”

No going back now. Arthur tried for another reassuring squeeze. “Your magic,” he whispered.

Merlin stumbled backward a few steps, trying to tug his wrist out of Arthur’s grasp. When he couldn’t get it free, he swiped his other hand across his face and through his hair with a soft strangled noise.

Arthur’s heart ached at the sight.

Neither man moved for several long moments. The only sound apart from the crackling fire was Merlin’s shaky breathing. Keeping his grip firm, Arthur made his way around the table to place his other hand on Merlin’s shoulder. It was trembling ever so slightly, though from fear or adrenaline, Arthur couldn’t say. His friend wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Merlin,” he said gently, quietly, trying desperately not to mess up this crucial moment. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

His manservant looked over to where the flames burned obliviously in the fireplace, still avoiding eye contact.

This wasn’t working.

Arthur dropped to one knee before his friend. “Merlin,” he tried again. “I give you my most solemn oath as both First Knight and Crown Prince of Camelot that I will protect your secret with my life for as long as you wish me to do so.”

Merlin’s head whipped around and finally met Arthur’s gaze, eyes wide. “You—truly?” he managed hoarsely. “You mean it?”

Arthur nodded. “I do.”

Without warning, Merlin’s knees buckled and he crumpled forward. Arthur surged upward to catch him, and they ended up in an accidental and slightly awkward hug.

“You really are a big girl, aren’t you?” Arthur teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You just _swooned_.”

“Did not,” Merlin mumbled limply from where he was draped over Arthur’s shoulder. “Don’t let Morgana catch you saying that.”

Arthur chuckled, then trailed off when he realized his friend was shivering. “Are you feeling ill?”

Merlin’s head twitched. “Don’t think so?”

Arthur rolled his eyes and dragged him back over to the fire, grabbing a fur pelt along the way for them to sit on. That seemed to snap Merlin out of his shock.

“I’m not _sick_ ,” he protested as Arthur deposited him on the floor, but he made no move to get back up.

Arthur went to rummage through his wardrobe for a thick winter cloak. Slinging it over his shoulder, he stepped out into the corridor and had a servant send for a pitcher of mulled wine from the kitchens. Back in his chambers, he found Merlin sitting exactly where he’d set him down. The man was shaking like a leaf and hadn’t even tried to make himself comfortable. _Idiot_ , he thought fondly.

“Budge over,” Arthur said, sitting down next to his friend and pulling his cloak across both their shoulders. He glanced at Merlin, who stared sightlessly into the flames. Should he say something?

Time passed. A quiet knock came on the door, and a kitchen maid came in to set a pitcher down on the table, exiting with a curtsey. Once she was gone, Arthur went to bolt the door shut, poured two mugs of the mulled wine, and made his way back to the hearth.

“Here,” he offered, pushing a mug into Merlin’s clenched hands. He barely acknowledged it.

“I don’t really know how to talk about this,” Merlin said unexpectedly, still staring into the flames. “All I’ve ever been taught is not to talk about it, and not to trust people.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. “I’m sorry you had to grow up like that.”

The fire snapped and the silence between them grew heavy with uncertainty. Typically, Merlin was the one who carried their conversations when Arthur was down or stressed or in a mood, but that clearly wouldn’t be the case tonight. Now that they’d finally broached the topic of magic, Arthur was at a loss for what to say and where to start.

 _The beginning is always a good place_ , whispered a voice in his head. (It sounded suspiciously like Merlin, but he brushed that thought off.)

“How long—” He cleared his throat. “How long have you practiced…you know, magic?” The other man flinched, and Arthur leaned into his shoulder, trying to provide some encouragement. “Why did you decide to learn it?”

“I didn’t.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t choose to learn it,” Merlin elaborated. “I was born with it.”

“That’s possible?” And _gods_ , the implications of the Purge if that were true.

Merlin nodded. “People can discover their…talents at any age, but from what I’ve heard, it’s a bit unusual for them to manifest that early.” He smiled ruefully. “According to my mum, my eyes were gold when I first opened them. It was a lucky thing the midwife didn’t see.” He huffed a laugh. “The things I used to get into. I was moving stuff around the room before I could talk, and apparently, when I was a baby, I’d even float while I slept. Occasionally would set fires, too – accidentally of course,” he added hurriedly.

Arthur snorted. “So even with magic, you’re clumsy.”

Merlin cracked a small grin. “Only sometimes. When I was little, I used to make pictures out of flames to entertain myself while mum was working.”

“I had no idea it was that easy to do.”

He shrugged. “It may not be; I don’t know. I never had any formal training, obviously. Things have always just…happened around me. Especially with stuff like fire. It’s very playful.”

“ _Playful?_ ”

“It likes to make pretty shapes.”

“It likes to _what?_ ” Arthur echoed incredulously. “Merlin, fire doesn’t _like_ to do _anything_.”

Merlin shrugged. “How would you know? You can’t feel it.” His face lit up. “I wish you could, though. Feel it, I mean. I don’t know how to explain exactly, but magic, it’s, it’s in _everything_. The trees, the wind, the water, the soil, the birds. I always love to go collecting herbs for Gaius because it’s so quiet and loud at the same time. So much to hear and feel. The forest vibrates with life, and if you listen really closely, you can sometimes even hear the clouds whispering. And the _stars_. Oh, they’re so gorgeous – at night, especially when it’s cold and still, they seem to _sing_.” He smiled wistfully. “I wish I could show you what it’s like, Arthur. If you could feel it all, I don’t think you’d ever believe that it’s evil or corrupting.”

Magic in the clouds and the water? The stars? Arthur sipped his wine and thought about Merlin’s words as the warmth of the spiced drink spread throughout his body and calmed his nerves. It sounded so…natural. So peaceful. Nothing like what he’d been taught growing up. Had he ever seen magic like that? Was it too soon to ask? Could he handle it, or would it just make more of a mess? “Could—could you show me?” Merlin glanced at him in surprise, and Arthur nudged his shoulder. “Just something small. I’ve bolted the door, and you’ve already closed the curtains for the night. No one will see.”

“Planning ahead were, we?” Merlin said with a nervous laugh, but slowly, slowly, he lifted a hand to the flames, palm facing upward. He kept his gaze fixed on Arthur, as if expecting him to change his mind. “You’re really okay with this?”

Arthur nodded, but even as he did so, he could feel his pulse pick up and his mouth go dry. Clenching his jaw, he tried to suppress any outward reaction. That wouldn’t help anything. Focusing on Merlin’s blue eyes, he waited for the telltale flash of gold.

Maybe it was because the firelight had already turned Merlin’s eyes slightly golden, or maybe it was because his eyes always were slightly golden and Arthur had just never noticed, but the glow came and went so quickly that he almost missed it.

The fire seemed to reach towards Merlin’s hand, and Arthur finally tore his gaze away from his friend’s face to look. _Gentle, peaceful magic._

What he saw took his breath away. Circling just above Merlin’s open palm, two small creatures made entirely of flames flew in spiraling, looping patterns. A dragon…and a bird; a falcon, of some sort. _A merlin_ , Arthur realized, as he studied the incredible fiery details in awe. _A Pendragon and a Merlin._

He looked up at his Merlin, who was smiling back at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I haven’t done this since I was a child,” he said softly. “Just made something pretty for the joy of it.”

Arthur leaned into his friend and watched, mesmerized, as the two shapes dove and soared and chased each other in circles over their heads, leaving trails of sparks in their wake. He tried to imagine Merlin as a child, laughing in delight as fiery animals pranced and frolicked around him while Hunith worked at a nearby table. Had she looked on and shook her head in wonder at such a miracle of light, or had she pursed her lips and scolded him to stop lest someone see?

“They’re beautiful.”

Merlin beamed. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever been able to show.” The fire-dragon glided by his face, brushing its wing against his cheek, but it didn’t seem to burn. “They were my only friends for a very long time.”

Something pleasantly warm touched Arthur’s finger, and he jerked back in shock, only to find the fire-bird happily perched next to his mother’s ring.

“Really?” The falcon was stunning, more intricate than any carving he’d ever laid eyes upon. It seemed to ripple with flames, and yet each feather was well-defined, like a real bird. Its tiny eyes glowed a brilliant gold. “No one’s ever seen this?”

“Only my mum. And Will, once.”

Arthur frowned. “You didn’t have any other friends growing up?” His childhood had been a lonely one, growing up a motherless prince in an enormous castle and only Uther’s cold version of love for company, but even he’d had other noble children to wrestle and spar with. And eventually Morgana.

Merlin deflated slightly. “My mother wouldn’t let me. It took me a long time to understand that I had to hide my abilities because they put me in danger. Things would happen accidentally, when I lost my temper or wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t allowed to play with anyone. And then, when I was older… Well, being a bastard didn’t help, either, and people already didn’t like me very much.”

“What about Will?”

Merlin’s shoulders tensed. He was looking into the fire, and Arthur couldn’t make out his expression. He remembered a similar situation, in the not-so-distant past, when he’d stood next to a grieving Merlin in front of a funeral pyre. _You know how dangerous magic is. You shouldn't have kept this from me._ Gods. How much those words must have hurt to hear, when Will had protected Merlin’s secret with his dying breaths.

(Why on earth had Arthur thought that was the right thing to say? At a _vigil_?)

(He didn’t know how to comfort people, that was why. Uther hadn’t been much of a role model in that, either. Hiding behind duty was easier.)

Merlin exhaled. “Will was a very good friend.”

“I’m sorry for what I said that day.” Merlin looked over at him sharply, eyebrows raised, but Arthur pretended not to notice. “I know it doesn’t undo anything, but…I’m sorry.”

A sad smile lit his friend’s face. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence for another few minutes before Arthur spoke again. “If you were born with magic, why did you come to Camelot?”

“It’s like I told you, back in Ealdor. I didn’t fit in anymore.”

“But why _Camelot_? Surely you knew about the laws on magic. Why not stay in Essetir?”

Merlin shook his head. “Mum didn’t know what to do with me. I was tired of hiding my magic and I was getting restless and careless in Ealdor. Started making enemies. She was worried. There were a couple of near misses, with being discovered, and when she realized that Will had found out about my magic, she decided to send me away. And there was always the chance of word getting back to Cenred. Just because he doesn’t outright execute those with magic doesn’t mean he won’t enslave them.” He fiddled with his empty mug. “I’d rather be dead than a slave.”

Arthur shuddered. “I’m glad you’re not either. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep it that way.”

Had the fire been burning that brightly all night? He wasn’t sure, but he decided not to mention it. Merlin was squeezing his fingers together, like he wanted to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Was this what it was like to be a sorcerer? Falling speechless when someone showed you most basic level of human decency? Arthur would have to do better.

Merlin cleared his throat. “Anyway, Camelot was pretty much our only choice. We have no other family, but mum has known Gaius for years, and, well, you already know that he practiced magic before the Purge. I think she hoped he might be able to help me learn better control and maybe even teach me some of the physician’s trade, and he agreed to take me in.”

“That was a risky gamble,” Arthur observed mildly, “considering that it forces him to lie to my father.” He could feel Merlin stiffen against him. “I’m not angry – it’s just very courageous of him. I’ve accepted the fact that my father loses all sense of reason and compassion the second magic is mentioned. Please trust me on this – I’ve given you my word that I’ll protect your secrets. And Gaius’s.”

Merlin relaxed slightly. “I know,” he acknowledged. “I know. It’s just a hard habit to break, when you’ve been taught to fear and hide and lie your whole life, and suddenly the Crown Prince of Camelot knows.” He sighed and curled in on himself. “I hate having to hide who I am. I just want to be myself.”

Arthur shifted uneasily. After all, wasn’t that one of his great fears with this whole mess? “And what is that hidden person like?” he finally asked. “Do I even _know_ you?” Merlin looked at him, so shocked and full of hurt that Arthur immediately felt guilty for bringing it up. He rubbed his forehead, hoping to stave off his impending headache. “I’m sorry to ask, but you have to understand, I’ve only just come to terms with all of this. This is so much to take in, and, and in the back of my mind there are all these doubts, and I have to know, how much of this—” his voice certainly did not crack as he gestured between them “—is real? Is the Merlin I know just a mask to hide your secret?”

“No!” Merlin shook his head vehemently. “You know me, just…not all of me. Not yet, at least.” He paused thoughtfully. “But aren’t we all like that? We all have things that we want keep to ourselves, or, or have to hide in order to protect ourselves, or the ones we love. We don’t owe anyone our secrets, as long as they’re not harmful. It doesn’t make it any less real.”

The tension that Arthur hadn’t even realized he was still carrying bled away. This was _his_ Merlin. His manservant, who could be unbelievably ridiculous and yet suddenly spout wisdom beyond his years. His friend, who could finally show all of himself. He smiled. “I know I tease you a lot about being an idiot, but I’ve never really believed it.”

Merlin gave him a look much too reminiscent of Gaius.

Arthur snorted. “All right,” he amended. “Maybe sometimes. But I do admire your occasional bursts of wisdom and your fearlessness for speaking up for what’s right and just. Staying here in Camelot for so long…I think you’re probably the bravest man I’ve ever met.”

Merlin looked away self-consciously. “I’m not sure about that. I’ve never actually told anyone about my magic.” He laughed bitterly. “I’ve always been too scared. I’ve never been taught how to share that part of myself, only to hide it. I tried to tell you once, but the timing wasn’t right.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Back in Ealdor?” Merlin nodded, looking pained, and shame washed over Arthur. “That’s what you were trying to tell me,” he murmured. That explained so much. Merlin’s hesitance while they were preparing for the battle, the way he’d looked at Arthur with dread. He hadn’t been worried about Kanen and his men – he’d been trying to share with Arthur his deepest secret.

He should feel honored, but all he could feel was guilt. “What about Will and Gaius? Didn’t you tell them?”

Merlin shook his head. “Everyone who knows has found out by accident. Sometimes I haven’t been very good at hiding it.”

Arthur’s blood went cold. _Everyone?_ “How many people know?”

“Only a few,” his friend reassured him. “Do you remember the griffin, a while back? Well, Gaius was right that it could only be defeated with magic. I think that was one of the reasons Lancelot left, because he didn’t feel right taking credit for all of it. He still slayed it!” he added quickly, at the look on Arthur’s face. “I just helped. You know, enchanted the lance a bit.”

“‘Enchanted the lance a bit,’” Arthur repeated flatly. “Please tell me this wasn’t in full view of myself and all the knights.”

“You were all unconscious!”

“That doesn’t matter!” he replied hotly, wincing at how loudly it came out. Lowering his voice, he continued, “Anyone could have woken up and seen you. _Gods_ , Merlin, you have to be careful.”

“ _Don’t you think I know?”_ Merlin swung around to face him, and Arthur had never seen him look so angry. Were his eyes glowing gold? “You’ve known for what, a day? I’ve grown up with this my entire life. You have _no idea_ what that does to a person, constantly living with the axe hanging over your head. To know that you’re one step, one breath, one wrong _word_ away from execution or enslavement? To know that if your friends find out, they might condemn you?”

The fire flared and Arthur scrambled back, half in shock and half in fear. Merlin’s skinny silhouette cut an imposing image against the flames, and though he knew with certainty that his friend meant no harm, it was hard to separate that image from the less-than-benign magic he’d faced over the years.

“I know,” Merlin continued lowly, “because I’ve grown up imagining it, having nightmares about it, and the other day I _actually lived it_ because _you_ arrested me when the goblin turned me in with Gaius’s face and _your father_ sentenced me to _death_. I know better than you can _possibly imagine_.”

Silence. Merlin was panting, and Arthur stared open-mouthed at the sorcerer in front of him. Merlin’s words rang in his ears, tone sharp and accusatory. Arthur should really say something, should actually apologize for arresting him like that, for not believing him, but all he could see were the roaring flames behind him.

“Did you—you—did you do that intentionally?”

“Do what?”

“The fire.”

Merlin twisted around to see the blaze, and his expression turned to horror. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he stammered. The fire fell to a weak, sputtering flame. “I didn’t mean—I got angry; I wasn’t being careful. Arthur—” He covered his face. “I’ve ruined it.”

Arthur’s fear vanished. Leaning over, he gently pulled Merlin’s hands away from his face. “It’s fine. I was just a bit startled. I didn’t know that sorcerers could do that kind of thing, that’s all.” Merlin was shaking his head. “I promise you,” Arthur said earnestly, “I’m not angry.”

As Merlin’s breathing calmed, Arthur kept on talking. “I’m sorry, too, for what I said. I didn’t think about how that could come across. You’re right, I _don’t_ know what it’s like, but I want to learn.” Merlin looked up in surprise, and he took a deep breath, throat tight. “I’ve obeyed my father in this for much too long, and while I can’t undo any of his laws yet, I’d like to know what I can do to help. To protect other magic-users,” he clarified, slightly embarrassed by the blinding smile Merlin was giving him.

“And me?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Oh shut up, Merlin,” he retorted, cuffing his friend across the back of his head. “But yes,” he continued. “I know this is all new to me, but now that I know, I worry. I possibly…care for you quite a bit,” he finished awkwardly.

Merlin fiddled with an edge of the cloak draped over both of them. “Did you know that a man was executed for sorcery the day I arrived in Camelot? It was practically the first thing I saw, and I had never seen an execution before. I wanted to turn around and walk right back to Ealdor. But I stayed because I promised my mother I would, and then I became friends with Gwen and then you.” Looking up at Arthur, he continued, “There were a few other reasons I stayed at first, but now I stay because of you. And Gwen, and Morgana, and Gaius. I care about you quite a bit, too, Arthur.”

Arthur could feel his face flush and went sip his mulled wine, only to find his mug empty. Merlin glanced over to where the pitcher sat on the table and his eyes flashed gold. To Arthur’s amazement, the pitcher floated up and over to where they were sitting. Humming, Merlin pulled the pitcher out of the air like it was sitting on a shelf, and, eyes flashing gold with a murmured word, poured them both a second mug. Arthur took a tentative sip and almost scalded his tongue. It was hot, like it had been freshly ladled from a pot in the kitchens.

“I thought sorcerers had to say spells to do magic,” he said, perplexed. “You didn’t say anything to bring the wine over.”

Merlin shrugged. “I’m a bit weird. Different from other magic users. I don’t really know why, but it’s always been like that for me. Things just happen sometimes. I was doing stuff like that before I could talk.” He looked at Arthur apprehensively. “I…may have also learned some spells since them.”

Arthur snorted. “You mean while you’ve been here in Camelot?”

At least he had the grace to look sheepish.

Arthur remembered goblin-Gaius’s evidence for Merlin’s magic, and a worrisome but completely Merlin-worthy, hare-brained idea crept into his mind. “And let me guess,” he went on. “You learned them from a book that Gaius gave you that you’re hiding under your bed.”

Merlin froze, eyes wide, and Arthur was torn between laughing and grabbing him by the shoulders to shake some sense into him. _Absolute, total idiot. How on earth had he never gotten caught?_

“It wasn’t the book the goblin found!” Merlin said defensively. “I really had never seen it before.”

Arthur rubbed his eyebrows, feeling a headache coming on for the second time that day. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Just great. A different book, then.” Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Arthur cut him off with an exasperated look. “I know you’re careful, Merlin. Gods, you have to be. But please, the next time my father orders a city-wide witch-hunt, just bring it here. No one will search my chambers, and I have much better hiding spots than _loose floorboards_.”

Merlin gaped at him. “You’d willingly hide a _sorcerer’s magic book_ in your own rooms?”

“If it means the difference between you being alive or dead, then yes.”

Merlin hastily swiped a hand over his eyes, but Arthur could still see tears shining on his cheeks.

* * *

They talked by the hearth, late into the night. Whenever the fire started to die out, Merlin would add another log and, with a flash of gold, the flames would eagerly flare up again. Arthur asked Merlin about flying daggers, enchanted snakes, and witchfinders, and Merlin told him tales of devious Sidhe, Questing Beasts, and undead wraiths. They laughed about mace fights, argued about manipulative sorceresses, and spoke in hushed tones about a druid girl once cursed to turn into a monster.

Morgana, apparently, had also discovered Merlin’s magic, but the man was tight-lipped about how and refused to say any more. Merlin could be unbelievably stubborn when he put his mind to it. Arthur eventually rolled his eyes and gave up, resolving to wheedle the story out of Morgana another day.

Eventually, Merlin muttered something about “the prophecy,” and Arthur stared at his friend, dumbstruck. “Prophecy? What prophecy?”

Merlin winced. “There’s, well, supposedly there’s a prophecy about us. ‘The Once and Future King and Emrys,’” he quoted. “I heard it from… _someone_ on one of my first nights in Camelot. He didn’t tell me much, but he said you’re supposed to bring magic back to the land and unite Albion, and that my job is to protect you along the way.”

Arthur felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “So all of this, the real reason you’ve stayed, is to fulfill this prophecy? This duty?” Not that he could blame him, if it meant that he could live without fear of execution for how he was born.

Merlin looked appalled. “No! Absolutely not! Didn’t you hear a word I said earlier, you cabbagehead? Maybe it’s why I stayed initially, while you were still an absolute prat, but now I stay for _you_. I’ve said it before, and I mean it; I’m happy to be your servant until the day I die, and I _want_ to be by your side.” He fingered his neckerchief absentmindedly. “Anyway, I’ve learned since then from less manipulative sources that it does no good to try and make a prophecy come true, or to stop one. It’ll either happen or it won’t. The future is up to us to determine.” He gave Arthur a lopsided smile. “For what it’s worth, we’re also supposed to be ‘two sides of the same coin.’ I don’t really trust the individual who first told me about it, but even my mother said something similar that when we were in Ealdor fighting Kanen, so that must count for something, right?”

 _Two sides of the same coin._ Arthur could feel a grin spreading across his face. “Well, prophecy or no, it sounds like you’re stuck with me. And I swear to you, when I am king, I _will_ overturn the ban on magic. You – and all magic users – will be able to live without fear.”

He was on the ground before he could even blink, tackled in a bone-crushing hug, and Arthur saw stars, actual, literal, _glowing stars_ floating around the room. Merlin tried to pull away, but Arthur laughed held him in place with a bear hug of his own, looking around in amazement and shaking his head in wonder.

“Only you, Merlin,” he said. Merlin’s tears were soaking into the collar of his tunic, but in that moment, nothing mattered. He squeezed his friend tighter. “You’ve protected me all these years, now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve been following this story, you may have noticed that the chapter count changed from a total of four chapters to “?”
> 
> When I sat down to write this chapter, I had one idea of how the conversation would go, but Merlin and Arthur decided to take a different path. Since there were still some other scenes I wanted to include, I decided to add another chapter. I’ve got it mostly planned out and written, so the next chapter (chapter 5) should be the last one for this story.
> 
> That said, this isn’t the end of this storyline! I have other ideas for prequel/sequel stories in the AU, so I’m making it into a series and hope to add to it in the future as my schedule permits.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! If you’re feeling motivated, please consider leaving a comment. Constructive feedback is always welcome and much appreciated!


	5. Friends and Futures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for taking so long to post this! I was stuck on this chapter for a while and then life got crazy this past month, and before I realized it, it had been almost two months since I last updated.
> 
> Anyway, without further here’s the final chapter to this fic. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. Thank you again for reading!

Arthur woke the next morning to hard stone and an aching back.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he tried to remember what had happened. Had he slept the night on the floor? Grey, pre-dawn light filtered in through the gaps in his curtains, and a warm, bony weight was sprawled on top of him, underneath one of his winter cloaks. Merlin.

_Merlin._

Memories of their conversation the night before came crashing back to Arthur, and he sat up in shock. How long had they been asleep?

The fire was still burning steadily, which was odd. Unless Merlin had woken up to stoke it in the middle of the night (and he would have noticed _that_ ), only embers should be left. How else would— _Of course,_ he thought wryly, _Merlin hadn’t been lying about doing magic in his sleep._

A groan came from the floor. “Just a little bit longer, mum, please. I’ll fix the roof as soon as I’m up.”

Arthur grinned and nudged his friend. “Let’s have you, lazy daisy. There’s no roof to fix, but you can certainly sharpen my sword.”

Merlin’s eyes shot open and he bolted upright, nearly bloodying Arthur’s nose in the process. “Arthur!”

He laughed. “Consider it payback for all those days you’ve startled me awake.”

Except Merlin wasn’t laughing. He was staring at Arthur, eyes wide, like he’d seen a ghost. “We—we fell asleep here last night,” he stammered. “Our conversation—”

“—wasn’t a dream,” Arthur finished. “I know you have magic.”

The words didn’t seem to have the reassuring effect that he’d hoped. Merlin scrambled to his feet, breath coming out in panicked pants. His eyes darted around the room like a cornered animal. “I—I have to go,” he blurted out.

“Merlin—" Arthur started, but it was too late. His friend had already fled through the servant’s door, with all the haste as if a pack of hunting dogs were biting at his heels. The sound of his footsteps died out in a matter of seconds.

Dammit.

The warmth of the fire had fled as well, and he curled in on himself, tearing at his hair. What had he done wrong?

* * *

Arthur tried crawling back in bed to get a few more hours of sleep before he had to get up, but his mind was racing. Had it been something he said? Merlin knew that Arthur didn’t make promises lightly. Once he gave his word, he would keep it, even if it meant going against the king’s orders. Hadn’t the whole ordeal with Morgause proved that?

And hadn’t Arthur’s actions last night proved he could be trusted? Hadn’t he always done everything in his power to protect the people he cared about?

 _Not when it comes to magic,_ said a voice in his head.

Nausea and hurt roiled in his gut for dominance. Did Merlin really think that he would turn around and betray him? Was he that horrible of a friend? He had smuggled the Druid boy out of Camelot that one time; didn’t that count for something?

 _But someone’s always had to beg you first,_ the voice said again. It sounded a lot like Morgana.

 _That’s not true,_ Arthur argued back, but he knew he was wrong.

The memory of Gaius tied to the pyre flashed in his mind’s eye, and he shuddered. Maybe Merlin really did have a reason to be worried. Gaius was more of a father to Arthur than Uther ever was, and yet when the king ordered his execution, Arthur had hidden behind his duty to the law. If it hadn’t been for Gwen’s sharp words and her appeal to what he knew was right, he would have stood by as Aredian lit Gaius’s pyre. He might as well have lit it himself, for the message it would have sent.

How many other times had his silence been as good as Uther’s condemnation?

Deep in his heart, he had always known his father’s harsh stance on magic was wrong, but he’d always hesitated in speaking out. He’d seen how the king reacted to Morgana defying him. He _doted_ on her, and yet would still try to execute a Druid child she’d grown to love. He loved _her_ enough to send out patrol after fruitless patrol to find her after her disappearance with Morgause, and yet he’d still locked her in chains when she spoke against him.

If the king did that to the daughter of his late best friend, what would he do to his son, to the prince that was the reason his beloved queen had died? Arthur had always been too afraid to find out. His father certainly had no problem throwing him in the dungeon when Merlin was dying of poison in order to prove a point.

Merlin. Everything always seemed to circle back to the sorcerer. What would convince him that his secret was safe? That Arthur would keep his word?

He wouldn’t leave Camelot, would he? Hadn’t he said that he stayed for his friends?

Arthur pressed his face into the mattress, eyes stinging. Merlin was the truest friend he had. He couldn’t lose him now, not when he was just finally starting to see all of who he was.

Pulling a pillow over his head, he tried to force himself to sleep. Hopefully he’d be able to figure something out when his head wasn’t pounding like a blacksmith’s anvil.

* * *

_Arthur knows._ Merlin raced through the corridor blindly, heart racing and blood pounding in his ears. In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have panicked like that, but the shock of realizing that everything the previous night had actually happened was so overwhelming, and he’d just had to get away for a little bit.

_Arthur knows Arthur knows Arthur knows_

Magic thrummed erratically under his skin and he swore quietly. The last thing he needed now was to be running around Uther Pendragon’s castle with uncontrolled magic.

— _my most solemn oath as both First Knight and Crown Prince of Camelot—_

His knees buckled, and he stumbled. He was sucking in too much air and was starting to feel lightheaded. Was this the type of shock Gaius had been teaching him about the previous week?

— _will protect your secret with my life_ —

He had to find somewhere to hide and breathe. Preferably sooner than later.

_Could you show me?_

Merlin’s traitorous heart soared and the pain from holding back his magic redoubled.

_They’re beautiful._

And of course, _of_ _course_ , it was always Arthur’s words that made him lose control. With his concentration broken, tendrils of magic slipped away from him, and a lock clicked open to his right. There was a familiar feeling to the room that he couldn’t place at the moment, but it didn’t feel dangerous, so he ducked inside anyway and tried to get his breathing under control.

“Merlin?” a sleepy voice asked.

Startled, he spun around and promptly tripped over a stone, knocking into a vase in the process. His magic – _foolish,_ foolish _, did it_ want _to get him killed?_ – caught it and set it down gently while he tumbled to the floor.

“Merlin?” the voice asked again. Oh. Morgana. “Are you alright?” She sounded worried.

He let out a shaky breath and forced a smile. “Good morning, Morgana. Sorry, I, um, wasn’t exactly looking where I was going.”

She snorted. “Oh really? I thought it was normal to stumble into a _locked_ _room_ before the sun’s even fully risen.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry. My...you-know-what, it’s a little out of control.”

“Hmm.” She must have taken a good look at him, because she sighed and got out of bed, pulling a robe over her sleeping gown and making her way to the fireplace. “Alright, lock the door and come on over. I’m already awake. We might as well talk.”

Merlin scrambled up and sank into the chair next to her.

“ _Forbearnen,_ ” she murmured. The fireplace flared to life immediately.

He gave her an appraising look. “You’ve gotten better.”

She grinned. “I’ve been practicing. Anyway, you’re stalling. To what do I owe this pleasure? What’s so urgent that you’re racing around the castle before daybreak like you’ve got the hounds of Annwn at your heels?”

Merlin slumped forward with his head in his hands and let out a nervous laugh. “I think I might’ve messed things up.”

“You know, I can’t actually help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Well—” The words stuck in his throat. “Let’s just say you weren’t far off in your warning the other night,” he managed. _Deep breaths. In. Out._ “He figured it out, Morgana. Arthur knows.”

She inhaled sharply.

“About me, I mean!” he clarified. “And, I, I think it’s okay? I mean, I’m still alive, and he didn’t immediately call for the guards, and he was actually _nice_ for a change and even swore an oath that he would protect my secret, and we talked for most the night and he even asked to see and didn’t freak out when I made the pitcher float and re-heated the wine, and he seemed fined when we woke up, but then I realized that it wasn’t a dream and I ran out and— _oh_ _gods_ , I’ve ruined it all, he probably thinks I’m running away or something, I’m such an idiot—”

“Merlin, slow down and _breathe_ ,” Morgana interjected. Her hands were warm on his shoulders as he gasped for air. “You’re going to pass out at the rate you’re going.”

“I—”

“I’ve only been awake for a few minutes,” she interrupted sternly. “Please, for the love of everything that is sacred, let me process some of this before you unload any other enormous developments. I’m already getting a headache.”

He shut his mouth and waited. His magic was buzzing again with nervous energy, and small bits of flame broke off from the fire unbidden to twist knots and designs in the air.

“Gods, you’re insufferable,” Morgana griped as she massaged her forehead and drew her robe around her. “Fine. Let me get this straight. Arthur figured out about your magic and was actually mature about something for a change. He talked to you about it and _asked_ to see you do something with your magic and adequately handled his emotions for possibly the first time in his life.” She glanced at him. “Do I have this right so far?”

Merlin nodded.

“And so the two of you ended up talking about all of this for most of the night,” she continued slowly, “and somehow you _both_ managed to _fall asleep,_ and when you woke up, Arthur was still fine with all of it, except _you_ decided to freak out and run away and _accidentally barge into my chambers before dawn while everyone’s still asleep._ ”

He winced. When she put it like that, he really did sound like an idiot. He nodded sheepishly, and she groaned. “It’s too early for me to have to deal with this. Why on earth did you feel the need to run away?”

Merlin sighed and tugged at his hair. “When you say it like that… I have no idea what I was thinking. All I knew at first was that I woke up on the floor and I thought I was back in Ealdor, and then Arthur was teasing me and I realized that it hadn’t all been a dream and he actually _knew_ , and I—I couldn’t make any sense of it.” He worried at the hem of his tunic. “I couldn’t breathe, and I just—I just had to get away.”

Morgana smiled at him sympathetically. “You’ve wanted him to know for so long, but he’s also the son of Uther Pendragon, the very man who would see anyone like us dead in an instant. He’s the very person you’ve always been taught to hide from. I understand.” She paused and cocked her head. “You said that Arthur made an _oath_ to protect your secret?”

He nodded. “His ‘most solemn oath as both First Knight and Crown Prince of Camelot.’”

Her eyes widened. “Merlin, in all of my time in Camelot, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of Arthur swearing such a serious oath, except for when he was named Crown Prince.”

He looked at her. “That’s good?”

“ _Good?_ ” She laughed in delight and pulled him out of his chair into a twirling hug. “Merlin, this is _incredible_.” Stepping back, she looked at him earnestly. “I don’t even think an enchantment could make him go back on a promise like that.”

Merlin grinned and hugged her back.

“Congratulations,” she whispered into his ear. “I’m so happy for you.”

He beamed, then remembered something. “Oh! He also said he that he wants to know how to help people like us and that he’s going to overturn the ban when he becomes king.” Morgana stomped on his foot. “Ow!” He glared at her. “What was that for?”

“You idiot,” she scolded, but her eyes were smiling. “You couldn’t have _started this entire conversation with that?_ ”

He grinned sheepishly. “Um…I kind of forgot?”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Only you.” Striding over to the window, she threw open the curtains. The sun had risen, and the landscape was bathed in golden, early morning light. She turned to look at him, and her eyes were shining with happiness. “This is hope, Merlin.”

“It really is, isn’t it?”

Flinging her arms out with a delighted laugh, she spun around like a child and flopped back onto her bed. Merlin could feel his magic bubbling joyfully inside of him, and the flowers on her table not-so-subtly bloomed a brilliant red.

“I should go and apologize to Arthur,” he said eventually, when their impromptu celebration had subsided. “Explain why I took off like I did. I can bring him an early breakfast.”

Morgana nodded. “Get him some honey cakes. He used to love those when we were younger.”

“I’ll see if there are any in the kitchens.” Merlin headed out the servant’s entrance. “I’ll see you later!”

She was still dancing around the room when the door closed.

* * *

Arthur must have eventually fallen into a fitful sleep because the next thing he heard was the gentle clatter of dishes on his table. He frowned. Merlin was usually much noisier. Had he already fled Camelot?

The servant made their way to the curtains and quietly pulled them open. Definitely not Merlin, then. Sunlight fell on Arthur’s face, but he stubbornly didn’t stir. He couldn’t bear the thought of waking up to this faceless servant, not after he’d just scared his only true friend away. _Just a little longer before facing the truth._

The servant cleared their throat tentatively. “Arthur? Are you awake?”

His heart soared and he bit back a relieved laugh. Sitting up, he blinked through the sunlight to look at his friend. How much had changed in a single day. “Merlin,” he breathed.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” they started at the same time.

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence as they stared awkwardly at each other.

Merlin laughed, breaking the tension. “It really was my fault, though,” he continued more seriously. “I’ve wanted you to know for so long, but when I remembered everything this morning, I just panicked and had to get away. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but I brought you your favorite foods for breakfast and—”

“Merlin,” Arthur cut him off. “It’s okay. It’s fine. I understand, I mean I’m still confused, but—” He glanced at the doors to his chambers. They were barred. _Was that how it felt to be a magic user? Always glancing around to make sure you weren’t overheard?_ “Look, I realize that I don’t have a good track record of standing up to my father’s laws on magic, and I know you’ve always been taught to keep it secret, and that my knowing doesn’t make it any safer, but I meant what I said last night. I _will_ protect your secret, no matter what my father says or does.”

Merlin beamed. “I know. And I really do trust you and can’t thank you enough.” He laughed and spun on his heels. “I mean, it’s brilliant! You know, and you’re okay with it! You even asked to see some of it last night and didn’t freak out! And you want change the laws and help us! It’s amazing! It’s better than anything I could have ever dreamt!”

Arthur couldn’t help but grin.

“Anyway,” Merlin continued, “I felt bad about running off like that, so I brought you breakfast! Here, I’ll bring it over.”

Like hell he’d bring it over. With all of his jittery energy, Merlin would probably end up spilling it all into Arthur’s lap. “Don’t bother,” he said. “I’ve been tossing and turning all morning. I could use a change of scenery.” Merlin followed him over to the table, his walk carefully controlled, like he was trying not to break out skipping. Arthur rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics as he took a seat. His joy was contagious. “Sit down, you idiot, you look like you were hit between the eyes with a— _are those honeycakes_?”

Merlin grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “Morgana told me that you they were your favorite when you both were little.”

“Of course she did,” he muttered with fond annoyance as he grabbed one. A thought occurred to him. “Wait, when did she tell you this?”

Merlin shifted on his feet. “I, uh, might have accidentally walked into her room when I panicked this morning?”

Arthur stared. “ _Accidentally_ walked in? Her room is locked!”

“My, uh, well. _It_ was panicking a bit too?”

How in the world was he still alive? Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “Thank goodness it was only Morgana. I shudder to think what could have happened if it had been someone else.” He paused and added more quietly, “I’m glad you only ran to her room. I was worried I might have scared you out of Camelot.”

“Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was serious. He looked up into his friend’s earnest blue eyes. “You’re my friend. I will never abandon you like that, just because I’m spooked.” He smiled mischievously. “You’d have to do a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

Arthur cleared his throat and tried to swallow back the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Sit down. Join me for breakfast.” He smirked. “There’s more than enough food to go around, and don’t think I don’t know that you already steal half of my meal anyway each morning.”

“Hey!”

* * *

Morgana was exuberant.

Arthur hadn’t seen her so blissfully happy, so joyful, since they were children, when they would spar and wrestle and climb trees and chase each other through hidden castle passageways, away from the watchful eyes of their (most likely frantic) guards. Even then, though, she had been tinged with sadness – grieving the death of her father Gorlois – and resentful of the restrictions that came with her position as Uther’s ward. Her episodes of nightmares started not long after.

Now that he thought about it, this was probably the happiest he’d ever seen her, and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

When he walked into the throne room for afternoon court, she beamed at him, like he’d hung the moon. She grinned at Merlin and seemed unusually relaxed as various petitioners aired their grievances. At dinner, she laughed with Arthur and made none of her usual sharp-tongued barbs.

It was slightly unsettling.

“Is Morgana feeling alright?” he asked Gwen in the corridor after dinner. Morgana had already returned to her chambers and Merlin was preparing Arthur’s for the night. “She seems…”

“Unusually happy?” Gwen supplied. “I don’t know. She was already awake when I went to her chambers this morning. I asked her what had happened, but all she would say was that it was a beautiful sunrise and a wonderful day.”

“And you have no idea what it could be?” Arthur pressed. “Nothing else she said?”

Gwen shook her head and shrugged helplessly. “Maybe she didn’t have any nightmares? Or maybe she had good dreams? She doesn’t talk about what happened after Morgause took her... I’m just relieved to see her so happy. It’s like she’s a new person. Whatever it is, I’m glad for it.”

“As am I.” He bid her goodnight and headed toward his own chambers, turning it over in his mind. Morgana had told Merlin about the honeycakes that morning, so she had clearly been in a good mood despite the fact that his manservant had stormed into her room in the wee hours of the morning. She already knew about his magic; maybe she was just pleased with Arthur’s reaction? She had, after all, fiercely defended Merlin to Arthur after he’d been arrested over the goblin incident.

But could this single instance of Arthur accepting Merlin’s magic really be the cause for such a change in her mood? It didn’t add up. Unless—

Snatches of past conversations swirled in his head, and clues started to fall into place.

 _No_ , he thought half-hysterically. _No, no, no_. He already had Merlin to focus on right now. That was enough to deal with. He would confront _that_ another day. Or week. Or month.

* * *

“What’s bothering you?” Merlin asked immediately, as Arthur strode into his chambers a few minutes later.

“Nothing.” He did _not_ want to have this conversation. He’d already had enough headaches the past few days to last him a lifetime.

His friend made a skeptical noise. “It doesn’t seem like ‘nothing.’”

Arthur groaned. Merlin was in his “annoyingly persistent” mood and wasn’t going to let this drop. “Morgana seemed very happy today,” he offered. “I don’t suppose this had anything to do with your _visit_ this morning?”

Merlin fumbled the sword he was cleaning in front of the fireplace. “Um, maybe?” he said with a guileless smile. “I mean, not entirely! Just maybe a little bit.” He paused to inspect the edge of the blade, which glinted gold in the firelight. “She _was_ happy when I told her.”

Now that Arthur finally understood some of the reasons behind Merlin’s many oddities, it was glaringly obvious when he was omitting part of the truth. He groaned again. “Gods, Merlin, I hope you’re more subtle around others. I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

His friend looked up from his work. “I’ve never liked keeping things from you,” he said seriously. “But this isn’t my story to tell.”

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair enough. Just answer me this: is there anything to worry about? No enchantments? No threats to the kingdom?”

Merlin shook his head. “None at all. She just—”

Arthur held up his hands in refusal. “No need. If it’s Morgana’s to tell and there’s no danger to anyone, I’ll wait. I trust her.”

His friend gave him a searching look. “You’re a good man, Arthur. You’ll make a wise king.”

 _The Once and Future King and Emrys_. The words echoed in his head. _Two sides of the same coin._

“Not without you by my side.” He walked over and leaned on the back of one of the chairs next to Merlin. Piles of rags in various states of cleanliness were scattered around him.

Merlin flashed him a fond smile and returned to his work. “I’ve told you before, Arthur. I’m happy to be your servant ‘til the day I die.”

For a few minutes, Arthur watched the rhythmic motion of his friend’s deft hands as they drew the whetstone along the sword. _Good blades are like coins,_ he mused. _They have to be balanced._ Merlin flipped the blade over to work on the other side. _After all, who’s ever heard of a coin with one side more valuable than the other?_ “Not my servant,” he murmured to himself.

The sword clattered to the ground, and Arthur jumped. Merlin turned and looked up at Arthur, offense written all over his face. “ _What?_ ”

“Merlin—”

“You’re sacking me?”

“ _Sacking_ you? Where did you get that idea? I—”

“You just said it! ‘Not my servant,’ I mean, you’re thick but—”

“Oh, like you ever act like a real servant anyway,” Arthur retorted.

“Oh yeah?” Merlin argued. “I know you’re a prat and everything, but really—”

“Merlin,” Arthur cut in. “You can yell at me all you want later, but would it be possible for you to shut up for _one minute._ ”

Merlin closed his mouth, still looking mutinous.

“Thank you. Now, I’ll have you know that I said ‘not my servant’ because you’re _not_. You’ve never treated me like you’re supposed to, _and—_ ” he pushed on, stalling Merlin’s inevitable protests, “ _—_ I’m grateful for that. Truly. You’re not my servant because you’re _my friend_.”

It seemed, that for perhaps the first time since Merlin had barged into Arthur’s life, Arthur had rendered him speechless. _Might as well take advantage of it._

“And I was thinking about what you said about the prophecy. You know, about coins and stuff,” he clarified, “and it made me realize that friends should be equals.” He gripped the back of the chair and forced the next part out. “I know that’ll always be an issue, with me eventually being king. For you. And Gwen, and Morgana.”

He held up a hand as Merlin opened his mouth to protest again. “And I know you don’t care about station, and I appreciate that, but there’s still that power imbalance, no matter what. And… And if you’re going to help me bring magic and peace to Albion, I want you standing _beside_ me, not in the shadows.”

Merlin just stared at him. “Arthur, what are you saying?”

He smiled. “I’m saying that you’re my friend, and one day, when I’m king, you’ll be my advisor, too. Of course,” he added with a grin, “I’ll still order you to polish my armor if you annoy me too much.”

Merlin grinned back and bowed his head in mock reverence. “Your wish is my command, _your majesty_.”

Arthur leaned down to clap him on the shoulder before walking over to retrieve something from behind the false panel in his wardrobe.

“You can finish that sword later,” he said as he sat down next to Merlin on the floor. “I want to show you something.”

He placed a small, thick book between them. “I found this in the library when I was sixteen, after… Well, let’s just say that I was roaming the library trying to take my mind off something.”

“’Something’?” Merlin repeated dubiously.

Arthur grimaced and tried to ignore his memories of a druid camp set aflame. “It was related to my father’s war on magic. Anyway,” he continued before Merlin could poke and prod and dredge up bad memories, “I don’t know how I managed to stumble across it, but it’s a book on magical law, and how past kingdoms have enforced it.”

Merlin sucked in a breath. “You mean you just _found_ this? Sitting out there?”

“It was tucked away in a forgotten part of the library.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how it escaped the Purge. My father had all books on magic burned. But guilt was weighing heavily on my conscience that night, and I couldn’t bear to destroy it.”

“Why…” Merlin shifted closer to Arthur to get a better look at the tome. “Why are you bringing it out now?”

_The King and the Warlock._

He looked at Merlin. His friend. His sorcerer. His equal.

“For the fair and just land we’re going to build, Merlin.” He squeezed his shoulder. “We’ve got work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who’s stayed with me through this! I have some other ideas for this AU in the works, but I don’t know how soon I’ll be able to post them. If you’re interested in following it, please consider following the series so you can get updates! And as always, if you’re feeling motivated, please consider leaving a comment. Constructive feedback is always welcome and much appreciated!


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